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HO, CARDINAL LADIES ! 







J^ong of ^e Carbinaf 



A LOVE STORY 



BY 



&lt;t5cne 



THE ILLUSTRATIONS BEING 

CAMERA STUDIES FROM LIFE 

BY THE AUTHOR 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



COPYRIGHT 1903 
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 




MAY 



Press cf 

Braunworth 8c Co. 

Bookbinders and Printers 

Brooklyn, H. Y. 



of 



IN LOVING TRIBUTE 

TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER 

MARK STRATTON 



" For him every work of God manifested a 
new and heretofore unappreciated loveliness." 



M181743 



* 





"Good cbeer! Good cheer!" exulted the Cardinal 




He darted about the orange 
orchard searching for slugs 
for his breakfast, and be 
tween whiles he rocked on 
the branches and rang over 
his message of encourage 
ment to men. The song 
of the Cardinal was over 
flowing with joy, for this 
was his holiday, his play 
time. The southern world 
was full of brilliant sun 
shine, gaudy flowers, an abundance of fruit, myriads 
of insects, and never a thing to do but bathe, feast and 
be happy. No wonder his song was a prophecy of 
good cheer for the future, for happiness made up the 
whole of his past. 

The Cardinal was only a yearling, but his crest flared 
high, his beard was crisp and black, and he was a very 

n 



of tfle 



prodigy for size and coloring. Fathers of his family 
that had accomplished many migrations looked small 
beside him, and coats that had been shed season after 
season seemed dull compared with his. It was as if 
a pulsing heart of flame passed by when he came wing 
ing through the orchard. 

Last season the cardinal had pipped his shell, away to 
the north, in that paradise of the birds, the Limber- 
lost. There thousands of acres of black marsh-muck 
stretch under summers sun and winters snows. There, 
are darksome pools of murky water, bits of swale and 
high morass. Giants of the forest reach skyward, or, 
coated with velvet slime, lie decaying in sun-flecked 
pools, while the underbrush is almost impenetrable. 

The swamp is like a great dining-table for the birds. 
Wild grape-vines clamber to the tops of the highest 
trees, spreading umbrella-wise over the branches, and 
their festooned floating trailers wave like silken fringe 
with the play of the wind. The birds loll in the shade, 
peel bark and break off dried curlers for nest material, 
and feast on the pungent fruit. They chatter in swarms 
over the wild cherry trees, and overload their crops 
with red haws, wild plums, papaws, blackberries and 
mandrake. The alders about the edge draw flocks 

12 



of 



in search of berries, and the marsh grasses and weeds 
are weighted down with seed hunters. The muck is 
alive with worms ; and the whole swamp ablaze with 
flowers, whose colors and perfumes attract myriads of 
insects and butterflies. 

Wild creepers flaunt their red and gold from the tree- 
tops, and the bumblebees and humming-birds make 
common cause in rifling their honey-laden trumpets. 
The air about the wild plum and red haw trees is vi 
brant with the beating wings of millions of wild bees, 
and the bee-birds feast to gluttony. The fetid odors of 
the swamp draw flies and mosquitoes in swarms, and 
fly-catchers tumble and twist in the air in pursuit of 
them. 

Every hollow tree homes its colony of bats. Snakes 
sun on the bushes. The water folk leave trails of shin 
ing ripples in their wake as they cross the lagoons. 
Turtles waddle off the logs clumsily. Frogs take grace 
ful flying leaps from pool to pool. Everything native 
to that section of the country, underground, creeping 
or a-wing, can be found in the Limberlost; but above 
all it is the chosen habitation of the birds. 

Dainty green warblers nest in its tree-tops, and red- 
eyed vireos choose a location below. Bellbirds, finches, 



of fflc &lt;xrbin&lt;xf 



and thrushes home there. There are flocks of black 
birds, grackles, and crows. Jays and catbirds quarrel 
constantly, and marsh wrens keep up never-ending 
chatter. Orioles swing their pendent purses from the 
branches, and with the tanagers picnic on mulberries 
and insects. In the evening, night-hawks dart about on 
noiseless wing ; whippoorwills set up a plaintiff cry 
that they continue far into the night; and owls revel in 
moonlight and rich hunting. At dawn, robins wake 
the echoes of each new day with the admonition, 
" Cheer up! Cheer up!" and a little later big black 
vultures go wheeling through cloudland or hang there, 
like frozen splashes, searching the Limberlost and sur 
rounding country for food. The boom of the bittern 
resounds all day, and above it the rasping scream of 
the blue heron, as he strikes terror to the hearts of 
frogdom ; while the occasional cries of a lost loon, 
strayed from its flock in northern migration, fill the 
swamp with sounds of wailing. 

Flashing through the tree-tops of the Limberlost there 
are birds whose color is more brilliant than that of the 
gaudiest flower that lifts its face to the light and air. 
The lilies of the mire are not so white as the white 
herons that fish among them. The ripest spray of 

H 



of ffle Carbtnaf 



goldenrod is not so highly colored as the burnished 
gold on the breast of the oriole that rocks on it. The 
jays are bluer than the calamus bed they wrangle 
above with throaty chatter. The finches are a finer 
purple than the ironwort. For every clump of foxfire 
flaming in the Limberlost, there is a cardinal glowing 
redder on a bush above it. These may not be more 
numerous than the other birds, but their brilliant color 
ing and the fearless disposition that keeps them forever 
in evidence make them appear so. 

The Cardinal was hatched in a thicket of sweet brier 
and blackberry. His father was a tough old widower 
of many experiences and variable temper. He was the 
biggest, most aggressive redbird in the Limberlost, and 
easily reigned king of his kind. Catbirds, kingbirds, 
and shrikes gave him a wide berth, and not even the 
ever quarrelsome jays plucked up enough courage to 
antagonize him. A few days after his latest bereave 
ment, he saw a fine, plump young female; and she so 
filled his eye that he gave her no rest until she per 
mitted his caresses, and carried the first twig to the 
wild rose. She was very proud to mate with the king 
of the Limberlost; and, if deep down in her heart she 
felt transient fears of her lordly master, she gave no 

5 



of f$c Carbinaf 



sign, for she was a bird of goodly proportion and fine 
feather herself. 

She chose her location with the eye of an artist, and 
the judgment of a housewife of much experience. It 
would be a difficult thing for snakes and squirrels to 
penetrate the briery thicket. The white berry blossoms 
had scarcely ceased to attract a swarm of insects before 
the sweets of the roses recalled them, and, by the time 
they had faded, luscious big berries ripened within 
reach and drew the food hunters. She built with far 
more than ordinary care. It was a beautiful nest, 
not nearly so loose and shackly as those of her kin 
dred all about the swamp. There was a distinct 
attempt at a cup shape, and it really was neatly lined 
with dried blades of sweet marsh grass. But it was in 
the laying of her first egg that the queen cardinal for 
ever distinguished herself. She was a fine healthy 
bird, full of love and happiness over her first venture 
at housekeeping, and she so far surpassed herself on 
that occasion that she had difficulty in convincing any 
one that she was responsible for the result. 

Indeed, she was compelled to lift beak and wing 
against her lord in defense of this egg, for it was so 
unusually large that he could not be persuaded short of 

16 



of fflc 



force that some sneak of the feathered tribe had not 
crept in and deposited it in her absence. The king 
felt sure there was something wrong with the egg, and 
wanted to roll it from the nest ; but the queen knew 
her own, and stoutly battled for its protection. She 
further distinguished herself by laying three others. 
After that the king made up his mind that she was 
a most remarkable bird, and went off pleasure seeking; 
but the queen settled down to brood, and she did 
it faithfully and well. 

Through all the long days, when the heat became 
intense, and the king was none too thoughtful of her 
appetite or comfort, she nestled those four eggs 
against her breast and patiently waited. The big egg 
was her treasure. She gave it constant care. Many 
times in a day she turned it ; and always against her 
breast she felt it with an individual pressure that dis 
tinguished it from the rest. It was the first to hatch, of 
course, and the queen felt that she had enough if all 
the others failed her; for this first egg pipped with a 
resounding pip, and, before the silky down was really 
dry on the big terra-cotta body, the young Cardinal 
stood on his feet and lustily demanded food. 

The king came to see him and at once acknowledged 

19 



^ong of ffle Carbinaf 



subjugation. He was the father of many promising 
cardinals, yet he had never seen one like this. He set 
the Limberlost echoes rolling with his jubilant rejoic 
ing. He unceasingly hunted for the ripest berries and 
the juiciest grubs. He stuffed that baby from morning 
until night, and never came with food that he did not 
find him standing atop of the rest of the family calling for 
more. The queen was just as proud of him and just as 
foolish in her idolatry, but she kept tally and gave the 
rest every other worm in turn. They were unusually 
fine babies, but what chance has a merely fine baby in 
a family that possesses a prodigy? The Cardinal was 
as large as any two of the other nestlings, and so red 
that the very down on him seemed tinged with crimson; 
his skin and even his feet were red. 

He was the first to climb to the edge of the nest and 
the first out on a limb. He found himself a worm 
long before his parents expected him to, and winged 
his first flight to such a distance that his adoring 
mother almost went into spasms lest his strength 
should fail, and he should fall into the swamp and 
become the victim of a hungry old turtle. He landed 
safely, however; and the king was so pleased he hunted 
him an unusually ripe berry and, perching in front 

20 



of ffle Catbinaf 



of him, gave him his first language lesson. Of course, 
the Cardinal knew how to say "Pee" and " Chee" 
when he burst his shell; but the king taught him to 
chip with accuracy and expression, and he learned 
that very day that male birds of the cardinal family 
always say "Chip," and the females "Chook." In 
fact, he learned so rapidly and was generally so observ 
ant that, before the king thought wise to give him the 
next lesson, he found him on a limb with closed beak 
and swelling throat, practising his own rendering of 
the tribal calls, " Wheat ! Wheat ! Wheat ! " " Here ! 
Here! Here!" and "Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!" This 
so delighted the king that he whistled them over and 
over and helped the youngster all he could. 

He was so proud of him that this same night he gave 
him his first lesson in tucking his head properly and 
going to sleep alone. In a few days more, when he 
was sure of his wing strength, he gave him instructions 
in flying. He taught him how to spread his wings 
and slowly sail from tree to tree ; how to fly in short, 
broken curves, to avoid the aim of a hunter; how to 
turn abruptly in air and make a quick dash after a bug 
or an enemy. He taught him the proper angle at 
which to breast a stiff wind, and that he should always 



21 



of fflc Cdrbinaf 



meet a storm head first, so that the water would run 
as the plumage lies. 

His first bathing lesson was a pronounced success. 
The Cardinal took to water like a duck. He bathed, 
splashed, and romped until his mother was almost 
crazy for fear he should attract a water-snake or turtle; 
but the element of fear was left out of his disposition. 
He learned to dry, dress, and plume his feathers, and 
showed such remarkable pride in keeping himself 
immaculate that, although only a youngster, he was 
already a bird of so great promise, that many of the 
feathered inhabitants of the Limberlost came to pay 
him a call. 

Next, the king took him on a long trip about the 
swamp, and taught him how to select the proper places 
to scratch for worms ; how to search under leaves for 
plant-lice and slugs for meat ; which berries were 
good and safe, and the kind of weeds that bore the most 

O " 

and best seeds. He showed him how to find tiny 
pebbles to grind his food, and how to sharpen and 
polish his beak. 

Then he took up the real music lessons, and taught 
him how to whistle and how to warble and trill. 
"Good Cheer! Good Cheer!" intoned the king. 

22 



of f0e Carbtnctf 



" Coo Cher! Coo Cher!" imitated the Cardinal. These 
songs were only studied repetitions, but there was a 
depth and volume in his voice that gave promise of 
future greatness, when age should have developed him, 
and experience awakened his emotions. He was an 
excellent musician for a youngster. 

He soon did so well in caring for himself, in finding 
food and in flight, and grew so big and independent, 
that he made numerous excursions all about the Lim- 
berlost alone ; and so goodly were his proportions, and 
so aggressive his manners, that he suffered no moles 
tation. In fact, the reign of the king promised to end 
speedily; but if he feared it he made no sign, and his 
pride in his wonderful offspring was always manifest. 
After the Cardinal had thoroughly explored the swamp, 
a longing for a wider range grew upon him ; and day 
after day he hung about the borders, looking off across 
the wide, cultivated fields, almost aching to test his 
wings in one long, high, wild stretch of flight. 

A day came when the heat of late summer set the 
marsh steaming, and the Cardinal, lingering about the 
borders, caught the breeze from the upland ; and the 
vision of broad fields stretching away to the north so 
enticed him that he spread his wings, and, following 

2 3 



of 



the line of the trees and fences as much as possible, he 
made his first journey from home. That day was so 
delightful that it decided his fortunes. It would seem 
that the swamp, so appreciated by his kindred, ought 
to have been sufficient for the Cardinal, but it was not. 
With every mile he winged his flight, came a greater 
sense of power and strength, and a keener love for 
the broad sweep of field and forest. His heart bounded 
with the zest of rocking on the wind, racing through 
the sunshine and sailing over the great panorama of 
waving cornfields, meadows, orchards and woodlands. 
The heat and closeness of the Limberlost seemed a 
prison well escaped, as on and on he flew in straight, 
untiring flight. Crossing a field of half-ripened corn 
that sloped down to the river, the Cardinal saw many 
birds feeding there, so he lit on a tall tree to watch 
them. Soon he decided that he would like to try this 
new food. He found a place where a crow had left an 
ear nicely laid open, and, clinging to the husk, as he saw 
the others do, he stretched to his full height and drove 
his strong, sharp beak into the creamy grain. After 
the stifling swamp hunting, after the long, exciting 
flight, to rock on this swaying corn and drink the 
rich milk of the grain, was to the Cardinal his first taste 

24 



^ong of ffle 



of nectar and ambrosia. When he came to the golden 
kernel, he lifted his head, and, chipping it off in tiny 
specks, he tasted and approved with all the delight of 
an epicure in a delicious new dish. 

Perhaps there were other treats in the next field. 
He decided to go still farther. But he had flown only 
a little way when he changed his course and turned to 
the south, for below him was a long, shining, creep 
ing thing, fringed with willows, while towering above 
them were giant sycamore, maple, tulip, and elm trees 
that caught the wind and rocked with it ; and the 
Cardinal did not know what it was. Filled with wonder 
he dropped lower and lower. Birds were all about it, 
many flying with it and dipping into it ; but its clear, 
creeping silver was a mystery to the Cardinal. 

The beautiful river of poetry and song that the 
Indians first discovered and, later with the French, 
named Ouabache, the winding, shining river that Logan 
and Me-shin-go-me-sia loved, the only river that could 
tempt Wa-ca-co-nah from the Salamonie and Missis- 
sinewa, the river beneath whose silver sycamores and 
giant maples Chief Godfrey traveled many miles to 
pitch his camp-fires, was never more beautiful than on 
that perfect autumn day. 

2 5 



^ong of fflc Catbinaf 



With his feathers plastered tight, the Cardinal 
lighted on a willow, and leaned to look, quivering with 
excitement and uttering explosive " chips;" for there 
he was, face to face with a big redbird that looked 
neither peaceful nor timid. He uttered an impudent 
" Chip" of challenge, which, as it left his beak was 
flung back to him. The Cardinal flared his crest and 
half lifted his wings, stiffening them at the butt, the 
bird he was facing did the same. In his surprise 
he rose to his full height with a dexterous little side 
step, and the other bird straightened and side-stepped 
exactly with him. It was too much for the Cardinal. 
Straining every muscle, he made a dash for the impu 
dent upstart. 

He struck the water with such force that it splashed 
above the willows, and a kingfisher, stationed on a 
stump opposite him, watching the shoals for minnows, 
saw it. He spread his beak and bellowed with rattling 
laughter, until his voice re-echoed from point to point 
down the river. The Cardinal scarcely knew how he 
got out, but he had learned a new lesson. That beau 
tiful, shining, creeping thing was water; not thick, 
tepid, black marsh water, but pure, cool, silver water. 
He shook his plumage, feeling a degree redder from 

26 



of f0e Cdrbtnaf 



shame, but he would not be laughed into leaving. 
He found it too delightful. In a little time he ventured 
down and took a drink, and it was the first real drink 
of his life. Oh, but it was good ! 

When thirst from the heat and his long flight was 
quenched, he ventured in for a bath, and that was a 
new and delightful experience. How he slashed and 
splashed, and sent the silvery drops flying ! How he 
ducked and soaked and cooled in that rippling water, 
in which he might stay as long as he pleased and 
splash his fill ; for he could see the bottom for a long 
distance all about, and could easily avoid anything 
attempting to harm him. He was so wet when his 
bath was over, he could scarcely get to a bush to dry 
and dress his plumage. 

Once again in perfect feather, he remembered the 
bird of the water, and went back to the willow. 
There in the depths of the shining river the Cardinal 
discovered himself, and his heart swelled big with just 
pride. Was that broad, full breast his? Where had 
he seen any other cardinal with a crest so high it 
waved with the wind? How big and black his eyes 
were, and his beard was almost as long and crisp as 
his father s. He spread his wings and gloated on their 

2 7 



of f0e Carbinaf 



sweep, and twisted and flirted his tail. He went over 
all his toilet again and dressed every feather on him. 
He scoured the back of his neck with the butt of his 
wings, and, tucking his head under them, slowly drew 
it out time after time to polish his crest. He turned 
and twisted. He rocked and paraded, and every 
glimpse he caught of his size and beauty filled him with 
pride. He strutted like a peacock and chattered like 
a jay. 

When he could find no further points to admire, 
another fact caught his attention. When he " chip 
ped " there was an answering " Chip " from across the 
river; certainly there was no cardinal there, so it must 
be that he was hearing his own voice as well as seeing 
himself. Selecting a conspicuous perch he sent an in 
cisive " Chip !" across the water, and in kind it came 
back to him. Then he "chipped" softly and tenderly, 
as he did in the Limberlost to a favorite little sister 
that often came and perched beside him in the maple 
where he slept, and softly and tenderly came the 
answer. Then the Cardinal understood. "Wheat! 
Wheat! Wheat!" He whistled it high, and he 
whistled it low. "Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!" He 
whistled it tenderly and sharply and imperiously. 

28 



of 



"Here! Here! Here!" At this ringing command, every 
bird as far as the river carried his voice, came to in 
vestigate and remained to admire. Over and over he 
rang every change he could invent. He made a 
gallant effort at warbling and trilling, and then, 
with the gladdest heart he had ever known, he burst 
into ringing song: " Good Cheer! Good Cheer! Good 
Cheer!" 

As evening came on he grew restless and uneasy, 
so he slowly winged his way back to the Limberlost ; 
but that day forever spoiled him as a swamp bird. In 
the night he restlessly ruffled his feathers, and sniffed 
for the breeze of the meadows. He tasted the corn 
and the clear water over again. He admired his 
image in the river, and longed for the sound of his 
voice, until he began murmuring, "Wheat! Wheat! 
Wheat!" in his sleep. In the earliest dawn a robin 
woke him singing, "Cheer up! Cheer up!" and he 
answered with a sleepy "Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!" 
A little later the robin sang again with exquisite soft 
ness and tenderness, "Cheer up, Dearie! Cheer up, 
Dearie! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer!" The Car 
dinal, now fully wakened, shouted lustily, " Good 
Cheer! Good Cheer!" and after that it was only a 

29 



^ong of tfle 



little time until he was on his way to the shining river. 
It was better than the day before, and every following 
day found him feasting in the cornfield and bathing 
in the shining water ; but he always went back to his 
family at nightfall. 

When the black frosts began to strip the Limberlost, 
and food was almost reduced to dry seed, there came 
a day on which the king marshaled his followers and 
spoke the magic word. With the dusk he led them 
southward, mile after mile, until their breath fell short, 
and their wings ached with unaccustomed flight; but, 
because of the trips to the river, the Cardinal was 
stronger than the others, and he easily kept abreast of 
the king. In the early morning, even before the robins 
were awake, the king settled in the Everglades. But 

J O O 

the Cardinal had lost all liking for swamp life, so he 
stubbornly set out alone, and in a little time he had 
found another river. It was not quite so delightful 
as the shining river; but still it was beautiful, and on 
its gently sloping bank was an orange orchard. There 
the Cardinal rested, and found a winter home after his 
heart s desire. 

The next morning, a golden-haired little girl and 
an old man with snowy locks came hand in hand 

3 



JSong of ffle Cdrbindf 



through the orchard. The child saw the Cardinal and 
immediately claimed him for her bird, and that same 
day the edict went forth that a very dreadful time was 
in store for any one who harmed or even frightened the 
Cardinal. So in security began a series of days that 
were pure delight. The orchard was alive with insects, 
attracted by the heavy odors, and slugs infested the 
bark. Feasting was almost as good as in the Limber- 
lost, and always there was the river to drink from 
and to splash in at will. 

In those days the child and the old man lingered for 
hours in the orchard, watching the bird which every 
day seemed to grow bigger and brighter. What 
a picture his coat, now a bright cardinal red, made 
against the waxy, green leaves ! How big and brilliant 
he seemed as he raced and darted in play among the 
creamy blossoms ! How the little girl stood with clasped 
hands worshiping him as, with swelling throat, he rocked 
on the highest spray and sang his inspiring chorus 
over and over, "Good Cheer! Good Cheer!" Every 
day they came to watch and listen. They scattered 
crumbs; and the Cardinal grew so friendly that he 
greeted their coming with a quick " Chip! Chip!" 
while the delighted child tried to repeat it after him. 



JSong of ffle Carbinaf 



Soon they were such friends that when he saw them 
approaching he would softly call "Chip! Chip!" and 
then with beady eyes and tilted head await her reply. 

Sometimes a member of his family from the Ever 
glades found his way into the orchard, and the Cardinal, 
having grown to feel a sense of proprietorship, resented 
the intrusion and went after him like a streak of flame. 
Whenever any straggler had this experience, he re 
turned to the swamp realizing that the cardinal of the 
orange orchard was almost twice his size and strength, 
and so startlingly red as to be a wonder. 

One day a gentle breeze from the north sprang up 
and stirred the orange branches, wafting the heavy 
perfume across the land and out to sea, and spread in 
its stead a cool, delicate, pungent odor. The Cardinal 
lifted his head and whistled an inquiring note. He 
thought he was mistaken, and went on searching for 
slugs, and predicting happiness in full, round notes, 
"Good Cheer! Good Cheer !" Again that odor swept 
the orchard, so strong that this time there was no 
mistaking it. The Cardinal darted to the topmost 
branch, his crest flaring, his tail twitching nervously. 
"Chip! Chip!" he cried with excited insistence, "Chip! 
Chip!" 

3 3 



of f#e Carbindf 



The breeze was coming stiffly and steadily now, un 
like anything the Cardinal had ever known, for its cool 
breath told of ice-bound fields breaking up under the 
sun. Its damp touch was from the spring showers 
washing the face of the northland. Its subtile odor 
was the commingling of myriads of unfolding leaves 
and crisp plants, upspringing* its pungent perfume was 
the pollen of catkins. 

Up in the land of the Limberlost, old Mother Nature, 
with strident muttering, had set about her annual 
house-cleaning. With her efficient broom, the March 
wind, she was sweeping every nook and cranny clean. 
With her scrub-bucket overflowing with April showers, 
she was washing the face of all creation, and, if these 
measures failed to produce cleanliness to her satisfac 
tion, she gave a final polish with storms of hail. The 
shining river was full to overflowing, breaking up the ice 
and carrying a load of refuse, it went rolling out to the 
sea. The ice and snow were not altogether gone; but 
the long-pregnant earth was mothering her children. 
She cringed at every step, for the ground was teeming 
with life. Bug and worm were working up to the light 
and warmth. Thrusting aside the mold and leaves 
above them, spring beauties, hepaticas, and violets 



of 



lifted tender, golden-green heads. The sap was flow 
ing, and leafless trees were covered with swelling buds. 
Delicate mosses were creeping over every stick of 
decaying timber. The lichens on stone and fence 
were freshly painted in unending varieties of gray and 
green. Myriads of flowers and vines were springing 
up to cover last year s decaying leaves. " The beauti 
ful uncut hair of graves" was creeping over meadow, 
spreading along roadside, and covering every naked 
spot. 

The Limberlost was waking to life even ahead of the 
fields and the river. Through the winter it had been 
the barest and dreariest of places but now the earliest 
signs of returning spring were in its martial music, for 
when the green hyla pipes, and the bullfrog drums, 
the bird voices soon join them. Its catkins bloomed 
first; and then, in an incredibly short time, flags, 
rushes, and vines were like a sea of waving green, and 
swelling buds were ready to burst. Out in the upland 
the smoke was curling over sugar-camp and clearing ; 
in the forests the animals were waking from their long 
sleep ; the shad were starting anew their never-ending 
journey up the shining river peeps of green were 
mantling hilltop and valley ; and the northland was 

34 



^ong of tfle Catbinaf 



ready for its dearest springtime treasures to come 
home again. 

From overhead were ringing those first glad notes, 
caught nearer the Throne than those of any other 
bird, " Spring o the year ! Spring o the year !"; and 
stilt-legged little killdeers were scudding about the 
Limberlost and along the river, and flinging from 
cloud-land their " Kill deer ! Kill deer ! call. The 
robins in the orchards were pulling the long, dried 
blades of last year s grass from under the snow to line 
their mud-walled cup ; and the bluebirds were at the 
hollow apple tree. Flat on the top rail, the doves 
were gathering their few coarse sticks and twigs 
together. It was such a splendid place to set their 
cradle. The weather-beaten, rotting old rails were 
the very color of the little dove mother. Her red- 
rimmed eye fitted into the background like a tiny 
scarlet lichen cup. Surely no one would ever see her ! 
The Limberlost and the shining river, the fields and for 
ests, the wayside bushes and fences, the stumps, the 
logs, the hollow trees, even the bare, brown breast 
of Mother Earth, were all waiting to cradle their own 
again \ and by one of the untold miracles each would 
return to its own. 

35 



of f^e Carbinaf 



There was intoxication in the air. The subtile, 
pungent, ravishing odors on the wind, of unfolding 
leaves, ice-water washed plants, and catkin pollen, 
were an elixir to humanity. The cattle of the field 
were fairly drunk with it, and herds, dry-fed during 
the winter, were coming to their first grazing with 
heads thrown high, romping, bellowing, and racing 
like wild things. 

And the north wind sweeping down from icy fast 
nesses, caught this odor of spring, and swept it on to 
the orange orchards and Everglades: and at a breath 

O O J 

of it, crazed with excitement, the Cardinal went flam 
ing 1 about the orchard, for, with no one to teach him, 
he knew what it meant. The call had come. Holi 
days were over. 

It was time to go home, time to riot in crisp fresh 
ness, time to go courting, time to make love, time to 
possess his own, time for mating and nest building. 
All that day he flashed about, nervous with dread of 
the unknown, and palpitant with delightful expecta 
tion; but with the coming of the dusk he began his 
journey northward. 

When he passed the Everglades, he winged his 
way slowly, and repeatedly sent down a challenging 

36 



of 



" Chip," but there came no answer. And then the 
Cardinal knew that the north wind had carried a true 
message, for the king and his followers were ahead of 
him on their way to the Limberlost. Mile after mile, 
a thing of pulsing fire, he breasted the blue-black 
night, and it was not so very long until he could dis 
cern a flickering patch of darkness sweeping the sky 
ahead of him. The Cardinal flew steadily in a straight 
sweep, until, with a throb of triumph in his heart, he 
rose in his course, and from far overhead, flung down 
a boastful challenge to the king and his followers, as 
he sailed over them and was lost from sight. 

It was still dusky with the darkness of night when 
he crossed the Limberlost, dropping low enough to see 
its branches laid bare, to catch a gleam of green 
in its swelling buds, and to hear the wavering chorus 
of its frogs. But there was no hesitation in his flight. 
Straight and sure he winged his way toward the shin 
ing river; and it was only a few more miles until the 
rolling waters of its springtime flood caught his eye. 
Dropping precipitately, he plunged his burning beak 
into its beloved water, and then he flew up into a fine 
old stag sumac and tucked his head under his wing for 
a little rest. He had made the flight of a thousand 

39 



ong of ffle Cctrbtndf 



miles in one unbroken sweep, and he was sleepy. In 
utter content he ruffled his feathers and closed his eyes, 
for he was beside the shining river; and it would be 
another season before the orange orchard would ring 
again with his "Good Cheer! Good Cheer!" 




year! Wet year!" prophesied the Cardinal 




The sumac seemed to fill 
his idea of a perfect loca 
tion from the very first. 
He perched on a limb, and 
between dressing his plu 
mage and pecking at last 
year s sour, dried berries, 
he sent abroad his predic 
tion. Old Mother Nature 
verified his wisdom by 
sending a dashing shower, 
but he cared not at all for a 
wetting. He knew how to turn his crimson suit into 
the most perfect of water-proof coats ; so he flattened 
his crest, sleeked his feathers, and, breasting the April 
downpour, kept on calling for rain. He knew he 
would look all the brighter when it was past, and he 
seemed to know, too, that every day of sunshine and 
shower would bring nearer his heart s desire. 

43 







of f0e Carbinaf 



He was a very Beau Brummel while he waited. 
From morning until night he bathed, dressed his feath 
ers, sunned himself, fluffed and flirted. He strutted 
and "chipped incessantly. He claimed that sumac for 
his very own, and stoutly battled for possession with 
many intruders. It grew on a thickly wooded slope, 
and the shining river went singing between grassy 
banks, whitened with spring beauties, beneath it. 
Crowded about it were thickets of papaw, wild grape 
vines, thorn, dogwood, and red haw, which attracted 
bug and insect; and just across the old snake fence 
was a field of mellow mold sloping down to the river, 
that would soon be plowed for corn, turning out num 
berless big, fat grubs. 

He was compelled to wage almost hourly battles for 
his location, for there was something fine about the old 
stag sumac that attracted homestead seekers. A sober 
pair of robins began laying their foundations there the 
morning the Cardinal arrived, and a couple of black 
birds tried to take possession before the day was over. 
He had little trouble with the robins. They were 
easily conquered, and settled a rod up the bank in a 
wild plum tree with but small protest; but the air was 
thick with chips, chatter, and red and black feathers, 

44 



of 



before the blackbirds acknowledged defeat. They 
were old-timers, and knew about the grubs and the 
young corn ; but they also knew when they were beat 
en, so they moved down stream to a scrub oak, trying 
to assure each other that it was the place they had 
really wanted from the first. 

The Cardinal was left boasting and strutting about 
the sumac, but in his heart he found it pretty lonesome 
business. Being the son of a king, he was much too 
dignified to go about begging for a mate, and, besides, 
it took all his time to guard the sumac; but his eyes 
were wide open to all that went on about him, and 
he envied the blackbird his glossy, devoted little sweet 
heart with all his might. He almost strained his voice 
trying to rival the love-song of a skylark that hung 
among the clouds above a meadow across the river, 
and poured down to his mate a story of adoring love 
and sympathy. He screamed a " Chip" of such savage 
jealousy at a pair of killdeer lovers that he sent them 
scampering down the river bank without knowing that 
the crime of which they stood convicted was that of 
being mated when he was not. And as for the doves 
that were already brooding on the line fence under the 
maples, the Cardinal was torn between two opinions. 

45 



^ong of ffle Carbinaf 



He was alone, he was love-sick, and he was holding 
the finest building lot along the shining river for his 
mate, and her slowness in coming made their devo 
tion very hard to bear when he so coveted a little 
love; but it seemed to the Cardinal that he never 
could so forget himself as to emulate the example 
of that dove lover. The dove had no dignity; he was 
so effusive he was a nuisance. He kept his little 
Quaker lady stuffed to discomfort; he clung to the 
side of the nest trying to brood with her until he 
almost crowded her off her eggs. He pestered her 
with caresses and cooed over his love-song until every 
chipmunk along the line fence was familiar with h.s 
story. The Cardinal s nerves were worn to such a 
fine edge that he darted at him one day and pulled 
a big tuft of feathers out of his back. Thinking it over 
when he had returned to the sumac, he was compelled 
to admit that his anger lay quite as much in that he 
had no one to love as because the dove was disgust 
ingly devoted. 

Every morning brought new arrivals, trim little 
maids fresh from their long holiday, and big boastful 
beaus looking their brightest and bravest, each singer 
almost splitting his throat in the effort to captivate the 



Jgong of fflc Catbtndf 



mate he coveted. They came flashing down the river 
bank, like rockets of scarlet, gold, blue, and black; 
rocking on the willows, splashing in the water, burst 
ing into jets of melody, making every possible display 
of their beauty and music; and at times fighting like 
young captains when they discovered that the little 
sweethearts they were wooing favored their rivals and 
desired only to be a sister to them . 

The heart of the Cardinal sank as he watched his 
kindred and friends. There was not a member of his 
immediate family among them. He pitied himself as 
he wondered if fate had in store for him the trials he 
saw others suffering. Those dreadful little feathered 
women ! How they coquetted ! How they flirted ! 
How they sleeked and flattened their plumage, and 
with half-open beaks and sparkling eyes, hopped nearer 
and nearer as if charmed. And the eager singers, 
with swelling throats, sang and sang in a very frenzy 
of extravagant pleading, but, just when they felt sure 
their little loves were on the point of surrender, a rod 
away over the bushes would go streaks of feathers, and 
there was nothing left to do but swallow the bitter 
disappointment, follow them up, and begin all over 
again. For the past three days the Cardinal had been 

47 



of tfle 



watching his cousin, rose-breasted Grosbeak, make 
violent love to the most exquisite little lady, who 
apparently encouraged his advances, only in the end 
to see him left sitting as blue and disconsolate as any 
human lover, when he discovers that the maid that has 
coquetted with him for a season belongs to another man. 
The Cardinal flew to the very top of the highest 
sycamore and looked off across country toward the 
Limberlost. Should he go there seeking a swamp mate 
among his kindred ? It was not an endurable thought. 
To be sure, matters were getting serious. No bird 
along the shining river had plumed, paraded, or made 
more music than he. Was it all to be wasted? By 
this time he had confidently expected results. Only 
that morning he had swelled with pride as he heard 
Mrs. Jay tell her quarrelsome husband that she wished 
she could exchange him for the Cardinal. And did 
not the gentle dove pause by the sumac, when she left 
brooding to take her morning dip in the dust, and 
gaze at him with unconcealed admiration? No doubt 
she devoutly wished her plain, pudgy husband wore a 
scarlet coat. But it is praise from one s own sex that 
is praise indeed, and only an hour ago, with his own 
ears, he heard the lark say that from his lookout above 

48 



of 



cloud he saw no other singer anywhere so splendid as 
the cardinal of the sumac. Because of these things 
he held fast to his opinion that he was a prince 
indeed and he decided to remain in his chosen location 
and with his physical and vocal attractions compel 
the finest little cardinal maid in the woods to seek him. 

He planned it all very carefully. How she would 
hear his splendid music and come to take a peep at 
him ; how she would be smitten with his size and 
beauty ; how she would timidly come, but come of 
course for his approval ; how he would condescend to 
accept her if she pleased him in all particulars ; how 
she would be devoted to him; and how she would 
approve his choice of a home, for the sumac was in 
a lovely spot for scenery, as well as housekeeping. 
For several days he had boasted, he had bantered, he 
had challenged, he had on this last day almost con 
descended to coaxing, but not one little bright-eyed 
cardinal lady had come to offer herself. 

The performance of a brown thrush set him wild 
with envy. The thrush came gliding up the river 
bank, a rusty-coated, sneaking thing 1 of the under 
brush, and, taking possession of a thorn bush just 
across from the sumac, he sang for an hour in the 

49 



^ong of tflc Carbtnaf 



open. There was no discounting that song. It was 
woven fresh from the warp and woof of his fancy. It 
was a song so filled with the joy and gladness of 
spring, a song so thrilled with love s pleading and 
passion s tender, pulsing pain that at its close there 
were a half-dozen admiring thrush-ladies gathered 
about. With care and deliberation the brown thrush 
selected the belle, and she followed him off to the 
thicket as if charmed. 

It was the Cardinal s dream materialized for another 
before his very eyes, and it made him sick with envy. 
If that plain brown bird that slinked as if he had a 
theft to account for, could, by showing himself and 
singing for an hour, win a mate, why should not he, 
the most gorgeous bird of the woods, openly flaunting 
his charms and discoursing his music, have at least 
equal success ? Should he, the proudest, most mag 
nificent of cardinals, be compelled to go about seeking 
a mate like any common bird? Perish the thought! 

He went down to the river to bathe. He hunted 
a spot where the water flowed crystal clear over a 
bed of white limestone, and there he washed until he 
felt that he could get no cleaner. Then he went up 
to his favorite sun-parlor, and stretching on a limb, he 



of f$e Carbtndf 



stood his feathers on end, and sunned, fluffed and 
prinked until he was immaculate. 

On the tiptop antler of the old stag sumac, he 
perched and strained until his jetty whiskers looked 
stubby. He poured out a tumultuous cry vibrant 
with every passion raging in him. He caught up his 
own rolling echoes and changed and varied them. 
He improvised, and set the shining river ringing, 
" Wet year! Wet year!" 

He whistled and whistled until all birdland and even 
mankind heard, for the farmer paused at his kitchen 
door, with his pails of foaming milk, and called to his 
wife : 

"Hear that, Marier! Jest hear it! I swanny, if 
that bird don t stop predictin wet weather, I ll git so 
skeered I won t durst put in my corn afore June. 
They s some birds like killdeers an bob-whites at 
kin make things purty plain, but I never heerd no bird 
at could jest speak words out clear an distinct like 
that feller. Seems to come frum down along the river 
bottom. B lieve I ll jest step down that way an see 
if the lower field is ready fer the plow yit." 

"Abram Johnson," said his wife, "bein s you set up 
fer an honest man, if you want to traipse through slush 

53 



of ffle C &lt;x r b i n a f 



an drizzle a half-mile to see a bird, why, say so, but 
don t, fer land s sake, lay it onto plowin at you know 
in all conscience won t be ready fer a week yit thout 
pretendin to look." 

Abram grinned sheepishly. "I m willin to call it 
the bird if you air, Marier. I ve been hearin him frum 
the barn all day, an there s somethin kind o human 
in his notes at takes me jest a leetle diffrunt frum any 
other bird I ever noticed. I m reely curious to set 
eyes on him. Seemed to me frum his singin out to 
the barn, it ud be mighty nigh like meetin folks." 

"Bosh!" exclaimed Maria, "I don t spose he sings 
a mite better an any other bird. It s jest the old 
Wabash a-rollin up the echoes. A bird singin long 
the river always sounds twict as fine as one on the 
hills. I ve knowed that fer forty year. Chances air 
at he ll be gone fore you git there." 

As Abram opened the door, "Wet year! Wet year!" 
pealed the flaming prophet. 

He went out, closing the door softly and, with an 
utter disregard for the cornfield, made a bee line for 
the musician. 

"I dunno as this is any the best fer twinges o 
rheumatiz," he muttered, as he turned up his collar 

54 



of 



and drew his old hat lower to keep the splashing drops 
out of his face. "I don t jest rightly spose I ort to go; 
but I m free to admit I d as lief be dead as not to go 
when I git a call, an the fact is, I m called down 
along the river." 

"Wet year! Wet year!" rolled the Cardinal s pre 
diction. 

"Thanky, ole feller! Glad to hear you! Didn t 
jest need the information, but I got my bearin s rightly 
frum it! I kin jest about pick out yer bush, an it s 
well along towards evenin , too, an must be mighty 
nigh yer bed time. Looks like you might be stayin 
round these parts! I d like it powerful well if you d 
settle right here, say bout where you air. An where 
air you anyhow ? 

Abram went peering and dodging along the fence, 
peeping into the bushes, searching for the bird. Sud 
denly there was a whir of wings and a streak of crimson. 

"Skeert you into the next county, I s pose," he 
muttered. 

But it came nearer being a scared man than a fright 
ened bird, for the Cardinal flashed straight toward him 
until only a few yards away, and then, swaying on a 
bush, it chipped, cheered, peeked, whistled broken 

55 



of ffle Cdtbtnaf 



notes, and manifested perfect delight at the sight of the 
white-haired old man. Abram stared in astonishment. 

"Lord A mighty!" he gasped. "Big as a black 
bird, red as a live coal, an a-comin right at me. Yer 
somebody s pet, that s what you air ! An no, you 
haint neither. Settin on a sawed stick in a little wire 
house takes all the ginger outen any bird, an their 
feathers is always mussy. Inside o no cage never 
saw you, fer they ain t a feather out o place on you. 
Yer finer n a piece o red satin. An you got that 
way o swingin an dancin an high steppin right 
out in God A mighty s big woods, a teeterin in the 
wind, an a dartin crost the water. Cage never 
tetched you! But yer somebody s pet jest the same. 
An I look like the man, an yer tryin to tell me so, 
by gum !" 

The Cardinal leaned toward Abram, and turned his 
head from side to side, and peered, "chipped," and 
waited for an answering "Chip" from a little golden- 
haired child, but there was no way for Abram to know 
that. 

"It s jest as sure as fate," he said. "You think you 
know me, an yer tryin to tell me somethin . Wish to 
land I knowed what you want ! Air you tryin to tell 

56 



of f#e Carbinaf 



me Howdy? Well, I don t low nobody to be 
politer an I am, so fer as I know." 

Abram lifted his old hat, and the raindrops glistened 
on his white hair. He squared his shoulders and stood 
very erect. 

"Howdy, Mr. Redbird? How d ye find yerself 
this evenin ? I don t jest riccolict ever seem you 
before, but I ll never meet you agin thout knowin 
you. When d you arrive? Come through by the 
special midnight flyer, did you? Well you never was 
more welcome any place in yer life. I d give a right 
smart sum this minnit if you d say you come to settle 
on this river bank. How d ye like it? To my mind 
it s jest as near Paradise as you ll strike on airth. 

"Old Wabash is a twister for curvin and windin 
round, an it s limestone bed half the way, an the 
water s as purty an clear as in Marier s spring-house. 
An as fer trimmin , why say, Mr. Redbird, I ll jest 
leave it to you if she ain t all trimmed up like a 
woman s spring bunnit. Look at the grass a-creepin 
right down till it s a trailin in the water. Did you 
ever see jest quite sich fine, fringy willers? An you 
wait a little, an the flowerin mallows at grows long 
the shinin old river is fine as garden hollyhocks. 

57 



of f#c Carbinaf 



Marier says at they d be purtier an hern if they wus 
only double ; but, Lord, Mr. Redbird, they air ! See 
em onct on the bank, an agin in the water ! An 
back a leetie an there s jest thickets of papaw, an 
thorns, an wild grape-vines, an crab, an red an 
black haw, an dogwood, an sumac, an spicebush, 
an trees ! Lord ! Mr. Redbird, the sycamores, an 
maples, an tulip, an ash, an elm trees air so bustin 
fine long the old Wabash they put em into poetry 
books an sing songs about em. What do you think 
o that? Jest back o you a leetie, there s a sycamore 
split into five trunks, any one o them a famous big 
tree, tops up mong the clouds, an roots a diggin 
under the old river; an over a leetie further s a maple 
at s eight big trees in one. Most anything you kin 
name, you kin find it long this ole Wabash, if you 
only know where to hunt fer it. 

They s mighty few white men takes the trouble to 
look, but the Indians uster know. Uster come canoe- 
in an fishin down the river an camp under these 
very trees, an Ma ud git so mad at the ole squaws. 
Settlers wusn t so thick then, an you had to be mighty 
keerful not to rile em, an they d come a-traipsin with 
their wild berries. Woods full o berries! Anybody 

5S 



JSong of ffle 



could git em by the bushel fer the pickin , an we 
hadn t got onto raisin much wheat, an had to 
carry it on horses over into Ohio to git it milled. Took 
Pa five days to make the trip ; an then the blame ole 
squaws ud come, an Ma ud be compelled to hand 
em over her big white loaves. Jest about set her 
plum crazy. Uster git up in the night, an fix her 
yeast, an bake, an let the oven cool off, an hide the 
bread out in the wheat bin, an git the smell of it all 
out o the house by good daylight, so s at she could say 
they wusn t a loaf in the cabin. Oh ! if its good pick- 
in you re after, they s berries fer all creation long the 
river yit; an jest wait a few days till old Aprile gits 
done showerin an I plow this cornfield!" 

Abram set a foot on the third rail and leaned his 
elbows on the top. The Cardinal chipped delightedly 
and hopped and tilted closer. 

" I hadn t jest lowed all winter I d tackle this field 
agin. I ve turned it every spring fer forty year. 
Bought it when I wus a young feller, jest married to 
Marier. Took a big debt on it ; but I wus alw ys in 
love with these slopin fields, an my sheer of this ole 
Wabash hain t been fer sale ner tradin any time this 
past forty year. I ve hung onto it like grim death, 

59 



of f#e Carbinaf 



fer it s jest that much o Paradise Pm plum sure on. 
First time I plowed this field, Mr. Redbird, I only hit 
the high places. Jest married Marier, an I didn t tech 
airth any too frequent all that summer. Pve plowed it 
every year since, an Pve been lowin all this winter, 
when the rheumatiz wus a gittin in its work, at Pd 
give it up this spring an turn it to medder; but I 
dun no. Onct I got started, b lieve I could go it all 
right an not feel it so much, if you d stay to cheer a 
feller up a leetle an post him on the weather. Hate 
the doggondest to own Pm worsted, an if you ll say 
it s a stay, b lieve Pll try it. Very sight o you kinder 
warms the cockles o my heart all up, an every skip 
you take sets me a wantin to be jumpin too. 

"What on airth air you a-lookin fer? Man! I 
b lieve it s grub ! Somebody s been feedin you ! An 
you want me to keep it up? Well, you struck it all 
right, Mr. Redbird. Feed you? You bet I will! You 
needn t even rastle fer grubs if you don t want to. 
Like as not yer feelin hungry right now, pickin 
bein so slim these airly days. Land s sake ! I hope 
you don t feel you ve come too soon. Pll fetch you 
everything on the place it s likely a redbird ever teched, 
airly in the mornin if you ll say you ll stay an wave 

60 



of tflc 



yer torch long my river bank this summer. I ain t 
a scrap about me now. Yes I hev too ! Here s a 
handful o corn I wus takin to the banty rooster; but 
shucks! he s fat as a young shoat now. Corn s a leetle 
big an hard fer you. Mebby I can split it up a mite." 

Abram took out his jack-knife, and, dotting a row 
of grains along the top rail, he split and shaved them 
down as fine as possible; and, as he reached one end 
of the rail, the Cardinal, with a spasmodic "Chip!" 
dashed down and snatched a particle from the other, 
and flashed back to the bush, testing, approving, and 
chipping his thanks. 

" Pshaw! now," said Abram, staring wide-eyed. 
"Don t that beat you? So you reely air a pet? Best 
kind of a pet in the hull world, too! Makin everybody 
at sees you happy, an havin some chanst to be happy 
yerself. An I look like yer friend? Well ! Well ! I m 
monstrous willin to adopt you if you ll take me; an , 
as fer feedin , from to-morry on I ll find time to set yer 
little table long this same rail every day. I s pose 
Marier ull say at I m gone plum crazy; but, fer that 
matter, if I ever git her down to see you jest once, the 
trick s done with her, too, fer you re the purtiest thing 
God ever made in the shape of a bird, at I ever 

61 



of f#c Cdtbinaf 



saw. Look at that topknot a wavin in the wind! 
Mebby praise to the face is open disgrace; but I ll 
take yer sheer an mine, too, an tell you right here 
an now at you re the blambdest purtiest thing at I 
ever saw. 

" But, Lord! You ortn t be so keerless! Don t 
you know you hain t nothin but jest a target? Why 
don t you keep out o sight a leetle? You come a- 
shinneyin up to nine out o ten men long the river 
like this, an yer purty, coaxin , palaverin way won t 
save a feather on ye. You ll git the leetle red heart 
shot plum outen yer leetle red body, an that s what 
you ll git. It s a dratted shame ! An there s law 
to protect you, too. They s a good big fine fer 
killin sech as you, but nobody seems to push it. 
Every fool wants to test his aim, an you re the bright 
est thing on the river bank fer a mark. 

" Well, if you ll stay right where you air, it ull be 
a sorry day fer any cuss at teches you; at I ll promise 
you, Mr. Redbird. This land s mine, an if you locate 
on it, you re mine till time to go back to that other old 
feller at looks like me. Wonder if he s any willinger 
to feed you an stand up fer you an I be?" 

" Here ! Here ! Here ! " whistled the Cardinal. 

62 



of ffle Catbtnaf 



" Well, I m mighty glad if you re sayin you ll stay! 
Guess it will be all right if you don t git stuck on some 
o them Limberlost hens an tole off to the swamp. 
Lord! the Limberlost ain t to be compared with the 
river, Mr. Redbird. You re foolish if you go ! Talk- 
in bout goin , I must be goin myself, ur Marier ull 
be comin down the line fence with the lantern; an , 
come to think of it, I m a leetle moist, not to say down 
right damp. But then you warned me, didn t you, old 
feller? Well, I told Marier seein you ud be like 
meetin folks, an it has been. Good deal more n I 
counted on, an I ve talked more n I hev in a hull 
year. Hardly think now at I ve the reputation o 
bein a mighty quiet feller, would ye?" 

Abram straightened up and touched his hat brim in 
a trim little military salute. "Well, good by, Mr. 
Redbird. Never had more pleasure meetin anybody 
in my life cept first time I met Marier. You think 
about the plowin , an , if you say stay , it s a go! 
Good by; an do be a leetle more keerful o yerself. 
See you in the mornin , right after breakfast, no count 
takin o the weather." 

"Wet year! Wet year!" called the Cardinal 
after his retreating figure. 

63 



of f0e Carbinaf 



Abram turned and gravely saluted the second time. 
The Cardinal went down to the top rail and feasted on 
the sweet grains of corn until his craw was full, and 
then tucked up in the sumac and went to sleep. Early 
the next morning he was about and in fine toilet, and 
with a full voice from the top of the sumac greeted 
the day u Wet year ! Wet year ! " 

Away off down the river echoed his voice until it so 
nearly resembled some member of his family replying 
that he followed, searching the banks mile after mile 
on either side, until at last he really heard voices of his 
kind. He went to them, but it was only several staid 
old couples, a long time mated, and busy with their 
housekeeping. The Cardinal went back to the sumac, 
feeling just a little lonelier than ever. 

He decided to prospect in the other direction, and, 
taking wing, he started up the river. Following the 
channel, he winged his flight for miles between the 
tangle of foliage bordering the banks and above the 
cool, sparkling water. When he came to the great, 
cumbrous structures of wood with which men had 
bridged the river, where the shuffling feet of tired farm 
horses raised clouds of dust and set the echoes rolling 
with their thunderous hoof-beats, he was afraid; and, 

64 



of fflc &lt;xrbtnaf 



rising high, he sailed out over them in short, broken 
curves of flight. But where giant maple and ash, 
leaning, locked branches across the channel in one of 
old Mother Nature s bridges for the squirrels, he knew 
no fear, and dipped so low beneath them that his 
image trailed a wavering shadow along the silver path 
he followed. 

He rounded curve after curve, and, frequently stop 
ping on a conspicuous perch, flung a ringing chal 
lenge in the face of the morning. With every mile 
his silvery path grew more beautiful. The river bed 
was limestone, and the swiftly flowing water clear and 
limpid. The banks were sheer in some places, gently 
sloping in others, and always thick with a tangle of 
foliage. 

At an abrupt curve in the river he mounted to the 
summit of a big ash and made boastful prophecy, 
" Wet year ! Wet year ! " and on all sides there sprang 
up the voices of his kind. Startled, the Cardinal took 
wing. He followed the river in a circling flight until 
he remembered that here might be the opportunity to 
win the river mate he coveted, and, winging" slower to 
select a conspicuous perch on which to display his 
-charms, he discovered himself only a few yards from 

65 



of f#c Catbtnaf 



the ash from which he had made his prediction. The 
Cardinal cut across the narrow neck and sent a second 
call, and, without awaiting a reply, for the second time 
he flashed up the river and circled Horseshoe Bend. 
When he came to the same ash for the third time, he 
understood. 

The river swept around in one great curve. The 
Cardinal mounted to the tiptop limb of the ash and 
looked about him. There was never a fairer sight for 
the eye of man or bird. The mist and shimmer of early 
spring were in the air. The Wabash swept Horse 
shoe Bend in a silver circle, rimmed by a tangle of 
foliage bordering both of its banks ; and inside it lay a 
low, open space covered with waving marsh grass and 
the blue bloom of sweet calamus. Scattered about 
were mighty trees, but conspicuous above any, in the 
very center, was a giant sycamore, split at its base into 
three mighty trees, whose waving branches seemed to 
sweep the face of heaven, and whose roots like miserly 
fingers clutched deep into the black muck of Rainbow 
Bottom. 

It was in this lovely spot that the rainbow at last 
materialized, and at its base, free to all humanity that 
cared to seek, the Great Alchemist had left his rarest 

66 



of f#c Cdrbtnaf 



treasures the gold of sunshine, diamond water drops, 
emerald foliage, and sapphire sky. And, for good meas 
ure, there were added seeds, berries, and insects for the 
birds; and wild flowers, fruit, and nuts for the children. 
Above it all, the sycamore waved its majestic head. 

It made a throne that seemed fit for the son of the 
king; and mounting to its topmost branch, for miles 
the river carried his challenge : " Ho, cardinal ladies ! 
Look this way ! Behold me ! Have you seen any 
other of so great size? Have you any to equal my 
grace? Who can whistle so loud, so clear, so com 
pelling a note? Who will fly to me for protection? 
Who will come and be my mate?" 

He flared his crest high, swelled his throat with roll 
ing notes, and looked so big and brilliant that among 
the many cardinals that had gathered to hear, there 
was not one to compare with him. 

Black envy filled their hearts. Who was this flaming, 
dashing stranger, flaunting himself in the face of their 
women folk? There were many unmated females 
in Rainbow Bottom, and many jealous lovers. A 
second time the Cardinal, rocking and flashing, pro 
claimed himself ; and there was a murmur of feminine 
approval so strong that he caught it. Tilting on a 

69 



of ffle 



twig, his crest flared to full height, his throat swelled 
to bursting, his heart too big for his body, the Car 
dinal shouted his challenge for the third time; when 
clear and sharp rose a cry in answer, " Here ! Here ! 
Here ! It came from a female that had accepted 
the caresses of the biggest cardinal in the Rainbow 
Bottom only the day before, and had spent the morning 
carrying twigs to a thicket of red haws. 

The Cardinal, with a royal flourish, sprang in air to 
seek her; but her outraged lord was before him, and 
with a scream she fled, leaving a tuft of feathers in her 
husband s beak. In turn the Cardinal struck him like a 
flashing rocket, and then red war raged in Rainbow 
Bottom. The females scattered for cover with all their 
might. In one dash the Cardinal worked in a kiss on one 
poor little thing, too frightened to get out of his way; and 
then the males closed in on him, and serious business 
began. The Cardinal would have vastly enjoyed a fight 
with two or three opponents, but a half-dozen made dis 
cretion better than valor. He darted among them, scat 
tering them right and left, and made for the sycamore. 
With all the breath he had left, he insolently repeated 
his challenge ; and then headed down stream for the 
sumac with what grace he could command. 

7 



of 



There was an hour of angry recrimination before 
sweet peace brooded again in Rainbow Bottom. The 
newly wedded pair finally made it up; and the maids 
speedily resumed their coquetting, and forgot the hand 
some stranger all save the poor little one that had 
been kissed by accident. She never had been kissed 
before, and never had expected that she would be, 
for she was a little creature of many misfortunes. 

She had been hatched from a fifth egg to begin with; 
and everybody knows the misfortune of beginning life 
with four sturdy older birds on top of one. It was a 
meager little egg, and a feeble baby that pipped its 
shell. The rest of the family stood up and took 
nearly all the food so that she almost starved in the 
nest, and she never really knew the luxury of a hearty 
meal until the two eldest had flown. That lasted only 
a few days; for the others went then, and their parents 
followed them so far afield that the poor little soul, 
clamoring alone in the nest, almost perished. Hunger- 
driven, she climbed to the edge and exercised her wings 
until she managed some sort of flight to a neighboring 
bush. She missed the twig and fell to the ground, 
where she lay cold and shivering. 

She cried pitifully, and was nearly dead when a 

7 1 



ong of f c Catbtnaf 



brown-faced, barefoot boy, with a fish pole on his 
shoulder, came by and heard her. 

" Poor little thing, you are about dead," he said. 
" I know what I ll do with you. I ll just take you 
over and set you in the bushes where I heard those 
other redbirds, and then your mammy will feed you." 

The boy turned back and carefully set her on a limb 
close to one of her brothers, and there she got just 
enough food to keep her alive. 

And so her troubles went on. Once a squirrel chased 
her, and she only saved herself by crowding into a hole 
so small that the squirrel could not follow. The only 
reason she escaped a big blue racer when she went down 
for her first bath was, that a hawk had his eye on the 
snake and snapped it up at just the proper moment to 
save the poor quivering little bird. But she was so badly 
frightened that she could not move for a long time. 

All the tribulations of birdland fell to her lot. She 
was too frail and weak to keep up with her family in 
migration, and followed with some strangers that were 
none too kind. Life in the south had been full of 
trouble. Once a bullet grazed her so closely that she 
lost two of her wing quills, and that made her more 
timid than ever. Coming north, she had given cut 

7 2 



JJong of fftc Carbinaf 



again and had finally wandered into the Rainbow 
Bottom, a tired little stray. 

She was such a shy, fearsome little body, the females 
all flouted her; and the males never seemed to notice 
that there was material in her for a very fine mate. 
Every other cardinal lady in the Rainbow Bottom had 
several lovers courting her, but this poor little frightened 
lonely maid had never a sweetheart; and she needed love 
so badly! No one had ever dreamed of seeking her, and 
now she had been kissed by this magnificent stranger ! 

Of course, she knew it really wasn t her kiss. He 
had meant it for the bold creature that had answered 
his challenge, but since it came to her, it was hers, in 
a way, after all. And she hid in the underbrush for the 
rest of the day, and was never so frightened in all her 
life. She brooded over it constantly, and morning 
found her at the down curve of the horseshoe, strain 
ing her ears for the rarest note she had ever heard. 
All day she hid and waited, and the next, and the next, 
but he never came again. 

So, one day, possessed by a courage she did not 
know was hers and filled with a longing that drove 
her against her will, she set off down the river. For 
miles she sneaked through the underbrush, and watched 

73 



t$t ^ong of fflc Cdtbtnaf 

and listened ; till at last night came, and she went 
back to the Rainbow Bottom. The next morning she 
set out early and flew to the spot from which she had 
turned back the night before. From there on she glided 
through the bushes and underbrush, trembling and 
quaking, yet pushing stoutly onward, straining her 
ears for some note of the brilliant stranger s. 

It was mid-forenoon when she reached the region of 
the sumac, and as she crept warily along, only a little 
way from her, full and splendid, there burst the voice 
of the singer for whom she was searching. She shot 
into the air and fled a mile before she realized that she 
was flying. Then she stopped and listened, and, roll 
ing with the river, she heard those bold, true tones. 
Close to the earth, she crept back again, to see if, 
unobserved, she could find a place where she might 
gloat her fill on the stranger that had kissed her. 
When at last she reached a place where she could 
plainly see him, his beauty was so bewildering, and 
his song so enticing that she gradually crept nearer and 
nearer without knowing she was moving. 

High in the sumac the Cardinal had sung until his 
throat was parched, and the fountain of hope was well- 
nigh dried up. There was nothing but defeat from over- 

74 



C P c^ottg of ^ v Cdtbittdf 

whelming numbers in Rainbow Bottom. He had 
paraded, and had made all the music he had ever been 
taught, and had improvised a great deal more. Yet 
no one had come to seek him. Was it of necessity to 
be the Limberlost, then? This one day more he would 
stick to his dignity and to the sumac. He tipped, and 
tilted, and flirted. He whistled, and sang, and trilled. 
Out over the lowland and up and down the shining 
river, ringing in every change he could invent, he 
sent for the last time his prophetic message, " Wet 
year ! Wet year ! : 




"Come here! Come here!" entreated the Cardinal 



He felt that his music was 
not up to his standard as 
he burst into this new song. 
He was almost discouraged. 
No way seemed open to him 
but the path to the Limber- 
lost, and he so disdained the 
swamp that love-making 
would lose something of 
its greatest charm if he 
were driven there for a 
mate. The time seemed 
ripe for stringent measures, and the Cardinal was 
ready to take them; but how could he stringently urge 
a little sweetheart that w^ould not come for his utmost 
endeavor? He listlessly pecked at the berries and 
flung abroad an inquiring "Chip!" With just an 
atom of hope, he frequently mounted to his choir-loft 
and issued an order that savored far more of a plea, 

79 




of 



"Come here! Come here!" and then, leaning, he 
listened intently to the voice of the river, lest he fail 
to catch it if it bore the faintest responsive "Chook!" 

He could hear the sniffling of the carp wallowing all 
along the bank. A big pickerel slashed about, break 
fasting on minnows. Across from the sumac, the 
black bass, with gamy spring, snapped up, before it 
struck the water, every luckless, honey-laden insect 
that fell from the feast of sweets in a blossom-whitened 
wild crab. The sharp bark of the red squirrel and 
the low of cattle lazily chewing the cud among the 
willows came to him. The hammering of a wood 
pecker on a dead sycamore, a little above him, rolled 
down to his straining ears like a drum beat. 

The Cardinal hated the woodpecker more than he 
hated the dove. The dove was only foolishly effusive, 
but the woodpecker was a veritable Bluebeard. The 
Cardinal longed to pull the feathers from his back 
until it was as red as his head, for the woodpecker had 
dressed his suit in finest style, and with dulcet tones 
and melting tenderness had gone a-courting. Sweet 
as the dove s had been his wooing, and one more pang 
the lonely Cardinal had suffered at being forced to wit 
ness his felicity; yet, scarcely had his plump, amiable 

So 



of ffle arbinaf 



little lady consented to his caresses and approved the 
sycamore, before he turned on her, pecked her severely, 
and pulled a tuft of plumage from her breast. There 
was not the least excuse for this tyrannical action; and 
the sight filled the Cardinal with rage. He fully ex 
pected to see Madam Woodpecker divorce herself and 
flee her new home, and he most earnestly hoped that 
she would; but she did no such thing. She meekly 
flattened her feathers and hustled about in a lively 
manner, trying in ever} way to anticipate and avert her 
lord s displeasure. Under this treatment he grew more 
abusive, and now Madam Woodpecker dodged every 
time she came within reach of him. It made the Cardi 
nal feel so vengeful that he longed to go up and drum 
the sycamore with the woodpecker s head until he 
taught him how to treat his mate properly. 

There was plenty of lark music rolling with the river, 
and that morning brought the first liquid, golden notes of 
the orioles. Evidently they had just arrived, and were 
overjoyed with their home-coming, for they were darting 
from bank to bank singing exquisitely on wing. There 
seemed no end to the bird voices that floated with the 
river, and yet there was no beginning to the one voice 
for which the Cardinal waited with passionate longing. 



Jgong of ffle 



The oriole s singing was so inspiring that it drove 
the Cardinal to another attempt, and, perching where 
he gleamed crimson and black against the April sky, 
he tested his voice a little, and, when sure of his tones, 
he entreatingly called "Come here! Come here! 

Just then he saw her ! She came slipping along on 
the earth, soft as down before the wind, a rosy flush 
suffusing her whole plumage, a coral beak, her very 
feet pink the shyest, most timid little thing alive. 
Her bright eyes were popping with fear, and, down 
there among the ferns, anemones and last year s dried 
leaves, she tilted her sleek, crested head and peered 
up at him with frightened wonder. 

It was for this that the Cardinal had waited, hoped, 
and planned for many days. He had rehearsed what 
he conceived to be every point of the situation, and yet 
he had made no calculation for the thing that suddenly 
happened to him. He had expected to reject many 
applicants before he could select one to match his 
charms; but in a flash this shy little creature, slipping 
along near earth, taking a surreptitious peep at him, 
made him feel a very small bird, and he certainly had 
never felt small before. The crushing possibility that 
somewhere there might be a cardinal that was bigger, 

82 



of tflc 



brighter, and a finer musician than himself, staggered 
him; and, worst of all, his voice broke suddenly. 

Down there among the flowers, she looked so little, 
so shy, so delightfully sweet. lie " chipped " carefully 
once or twice to steady himself and clear his throat, 
which had unaccountably grown dry and husky; and 
then he tenderly tried it again. " Come here! Come 
here !" implored the Cardinal. He forgot all about his 
dignity. He knew that his voice was trembling with 
eagerness and hoarse with fear. He was afraid to 
attempt approaching her, but he leaned toward her, 
begging and pleading. He teased and insisted, and 
he did not care a particle if he did. It suddenly seemed 
an honor to coax her. He rocked on the limb. He 
side-stepped and hopped and gyrated gracefully. He 
fluffed and flirted and showed himself off to every ad 
vantage. It never occurred to him that the dove and 
the woodpecker might be watching, though he would 
not have cared in the least if they had been; and, 
as for any other cardinal, he would have attacked the 
combined forces of the Limberlost and the Rainbow 
Bottom just then. 

He sang and sang. Every impulse of passion in his 
big, crimson, palpitating body was thrown into those 

8.3 



of 



notes; but she only turned her head from side to side, 
peering up at him, and looking sufficiently frightened 
to flee at a breath, and answered not even the faintest 
little " Chook! " of encouragement. 

The Cardinal rested a second before he tried it 
again. That settled his nerves a little and gave him 
better command of himself. He could tell that his 
notes were clearing and growing sweeter. He was 
improving. Perhaps she was interested. There was a 
little encouragement in that she was still there. The 

o 

Cardinal felt that his day had come. 

"Come here! Come here!" He was on his 
mettle now. Surely no cardinal could sing fuller, 
clearer, sweeter notes ! He began at the very first, 
and rollicked through a story of adventure, coloring it 
with every wild, dashing, catchy note he could impro 
vise. He followed that with a rippling song of the joy 
and fullness of spring, in notes as light and airy as the 
wind-blown soul of melody, and with swaying body 
kept time to his rhythmic measures. Then he glided 
into a so* g of love, and tenderly, pleadingly, passion 
ately, told the story as only a courting bird can tell it. 
And then he sang a song of ravishment ; a song 
quavering with fear and the pain tugging at his heart. 

84 



of ffle 



He had almost run the gamut, and she really looked far 
more as if she intended to flee than to come to him ; 
and he was afraid to take even one timid little hop 
toward her. 

In a fit of desperation the Cardinal burst into the 
passion song. He rose to his full height, leaned toward 
her with outspread, quivering wings, and crest flared 
to the utmost, and, rocking from side to side in the 
intensity of his fervor, he poured out a perfect torrent of 
palpitating song. His cardinal body swayed to the roll 
ing flood of his ecstatic notes, until he looked like a 
flaming, pulsing bit of the soul of music materialized, 
as he entreated, coaxed, commanded, and plead. 
From sheer exhaustion, he threw up his head to round 
off the last note he could utter, and, breathlessly 
glancing down to see if she were coming, caught sight 
of a faint streak of gray in the distance. He had planned 
so to subdue the little female he courted that she would 
come to him; but he was in hot pursuit a half day s 
journey away before he remembered it. 

No other cardinal ever was led such a chase as she led 
him in the following days. Through fear and timidity 
she had kept much of her life in the underbrush. The 
Cardinal was a bird of the open fields and tree-tops. 

85 



of fflc 



He loved to rock with the wind, and speed like an 
arrow in great plunges of flight. This darting and 
twisting over logs, among leaves, and through tangled 
thickets, tired, tried, and exasperated him worse than 
hundreds of miles of open flight. Sometimes he drove 
her from cover, and then she wildly dashed up hill and 
down dale, seeking another thicket; but, wherever she 
went, the Cardinal was just a breath behind her, and 
with every passing mile his passion for her grew. 

There was no time to eat, bathe, or sing; only mile 
after mile of unceasing pursuit. It seemed that the 
little creature could not stop if she would, and, as for 
the Cardinal, he was in that chase to stay until his last 
heart-beat. It was a question how the poor little thing 
kept it up. She was visibly the worse for this ardent 
courtship. Two tail feathers were gone, and there 
was a broken one beating from one wing. Once she 
had flown too low, striking her head against a rail 
until a drop of blood came, and she screamed pitifully. 
Several times the Cardinal had cornered her, and tried 
to hold her by a bunch of feathers, and compel her by 
force to listen to reason; but she only broke from his 
hold and dashed away like a stricken thing, leaving 
him half dead with longing and remorse. 

86 



JSong of tfle Catbtndf 



But no matter how baffled she grew, or where she 
fled in her headlong race, the one thing she always 
remembered was, not to lead the Cardinal into the 
wrath that awaited him in the Rainbow Bottom. 
Panting for breath, quivering with fear, longing for 
well concealed retreats, worn and half blinded by the 
disasters of flight through strange country, the little 
bird beat her aimless way ; but she would have been 
torn to pieces before she would have led her magnificent 
pursuer into the camp of his enemies. 

Poor little feathered sweetheart ! She had been flee 
ing some sort of pursuer all her life. She could not 
realize that love and protection had come in this splen 
did guise, and she fled on and on. 

Once the Cardinal, aching with passion and love, 
fell behind a little that she might rest, and, before 
he realized that another bird was near, an impudent 
big relative of his, straying from the Limberlost, cut 
in, and pursued her so hotly that, with a scream of 
utter panic, she wheeled and darted back to him for 
protection. When, to the rush of rage that possessed 
him at the sight of a rival, was added the knowledge 
that she was seeking him in her extremity, such a 
mighty wave of anger swept the Cardinal that he looked 



of f$e Carbinaf 



twice his real size. Like a flaming brand of vengeance 
he struck that Limberlost upstart, and sent him rolling 
to earth, a mass of battered feathers. With beak and 
claw he made his attack, and when he had so utterly 
demolished his rival that he had crept off trembling, 
with disheveled plumage stained with his own blood, 
the Cardinal remembered his little love and hastened 
back, confidently hoping for his reward. 

She was so securely hidden that, though he went 
searching, calling, pleading, he found no trace of her 
the rest of that day. The Cardinal almost went dis 
tracted ; and his tender, imploring cries would have 
moved any but a panic-stricken bird. He did not even 
know in what direction to pursue her. Night closed in 
and found him in a panic of love-sick fear, but it 
brought rest and wisdom. She could not have gone 
very far. She was too worn. He would not go about 
proclaiming his presence. She would soon suffer past 
bearing for food and water. 

He went and hid in the willows near where he had 
lost her, and waited with what patience he could ; and 
it was a wise plan. Just a little after dawn, moving 
stilly as the break of day, trembling with fear, she came 
slipping down to the river for a drink. It was almost 

88 



of 



brutal cruelty, but her fear must be overcome some 
how; and with a cry of triumph the Cardinal, in a 
plunge of flight, was beside her. She gave him one 
stricken look, and dashed away; and the chase began 
all over again, and went on and on, until she was 
visibly breaking. 

There was no room left for a rival that morning. 
The Cardinal flew abreast of her and gave her a caress 
or attempted a kiss whenever he found the ghost of a 
chance. She was almost worn out, her flights were 
wavering and growing shorter. The Cardinal did his 
utmost. If she paused to rest, he crept just as near as he 
dared, and piteously begged "Come here! Come here! 7 

When she took wing, he so dexterously intercepted 
her course that she several times took refuge in his 
sumac without realizing where she was. When she 
did that, he perched just as near as he dared ; and, 
while they both rested, he sang to her a soft little 
whispered love song, away down in his throat; and, 
with every note, he gently edged nearer. She turned 
her head from him, and, though she was panting for 
breath and palpitating with fear, the Cardinal knew 
that he dared not go c^ser, or she would dash away 
like the wild thing she was. The next time she took 

89 



of 



wing, she found him so persistently in her course that 
she turned sharply and fled panting back to the sumac. 
When this had happened so often that she seemed to 
recognize the sumac as a place of refuge, the Cardinal 
slipped aside and spent all his remaining breath in an 
exultant whistle of triumph, for he was beginning to see 
his way now. He dashed into mid air, and, with a 
gyration that would have done credit to a fly-catcher, 
he snapped up a gadfly. 

With tender "Chip!" from branch to branch, 
slowly, cautiously, he came with it. Because he was 
half starved himself, he knew that she must be almost 
famished. Holding it where she could see it, he hop 
ped toward her, eagerly, carefully, the gadfly in his 
beak, his heart in his mouth. He stretched his neck 
and legs to the limit as he reached the fly toward her. 
What matter that she took it with a snap, and plunged 
a quarter of a mile to eat it? She had taken it ! That 
was the beginning. Cautiously he impelled her back 
to the sumac, and with untiring patience kept her there 
the rest of the day. He carried her every choice mor 
sel he could snap up in the immediate vicinity of the 
sumac, and occasionally she took a bit from his beak, 
though oftenest he was compelled to lay it on a limb 

90 



ong of tfle 



beside her. At dusk she repeatedly dashed for the 
underbrush; but the Cardinal, with endless patience 
and tenderness, manceuvered her back to the sumac, 
until she gave up, and, under the shelter of a neigh 
boring grape-vine, perched on a limb that was the 
Cardinal s own chosen resting place, tucked her 
poor, tired little head under her wing, and went to 
sleep. When she was soundly sleeping, the Cardinal 
crept as close as he dared, and, with one eye on his 
little gray love, and the other roving for any possible 
danger, he put in a night of watching. 

He was almost worn out; but it was infinitely better 
than the previous night, at any rate, for now not only 
did he know where she was, but she was fast asleep 
in his own favorite place. Huddled on the limb, the 
Cardinal gloated over her. He found her beauty per 
fect. To be sure, she was disheveled ; but she could 
make her toilet. There were a few feathers gone; 
but they would speedily grow. She made a heart- 
satisfying little picture, on which the Cardinal feasted 
his love-sick soul, by the light of every straying 
moon-beam that slid around the edges of the grape 
leaves. 

Wave after wave of tender passion shook him. 

9 1 



J&ong of fflc Carbtnaf 



Away down in his throat half the night he kept softly 
calling to her : " Come here ! Come here ! " 

Next morning, when the robins waked the day 
along the shining river, she woke with a start; but, 
before she could decide in which direction to fly, she 
discovered a nice fresh grub laid on the limb beside 
her, and very sensibly stayed for breakfast. Then the 
Cardinal went down to the river and bathed. He 
made such a delightful play of it, and the splash of the 
water sounded so refreshing to the tired, draggled bird, 
that she could not resist venturing down for a few 
dips herself. When she was wet she could not fly 
well, and he improved the opportunity to pull her 
broken quills, help her dress herself, and bestow a few 
extra caresses. He led her to his favorite place for a 
sun bath ; and followed the farmer s plow in the corn 
field until he found a big, sweet beetle. He snapped 
off his head, peeled the stiff wing shields, and daintily 
offered it to her. He was so delighted when she took 
it from his beak, and stayed in the sumac to eat it, that 
he went and established himself on a near-by thornbush, 
where the snowy blossoms of a wild morning-glory 
made a fine background for his scarlet coat ; and he 
sang the old pleading song as he had never sung it 

92 



^ong of fflc Catbtnaf 



before, for now there was a tinge of hope battling with 
the fear in his heart. 

Over and over he sang, rounding, filling, swelling 
every note, leaning to her in coaxing tenderness, flash 
ing his brilliant beauty as he swayed and rocked, for 
her approval and all that he had suffered and all that 
he hoped for was in his song. Just when his heart 
was growing sick within him, his straining ear caught 
the faintest, most timid call a lover ever answered. 
Only one imploring little " Chook ! " from the sumac ! 
His song broke in a suffocating burst of exultation. 
Cautiously he hopped from twig to twig toward her. 
With tender throaty murmurings he slowly edged nearer 
and, wonder of wonders ! with tired eyes and quiver 
ing wings, she reached him her beak for a kiss. 

At dinner that day, the farmer said to his wife : 
" Marier, if you want to hear the purtiest singin , an 
see the cutest sight you ever saw, jest come down 
along the line fence an watch the antics o that red- 
bird we been hearin ." 

u I dunno as redbirds are so skeerce at I ve any call 
to wade through slush a half-mile to see one," answered 
Maria. 

" Footin s purty good along the line fence," said 

95 



of 



Abram, "an you never saw no redbird like this feller. 
He s as big as any two common ones. He s so red 
every bush he lights on looks like it was afire. It s 
past all question, he s been somebody s pet, an he s 
taken me fer the man. I kin git in six feet of him 
easy. He s the finest bird I ever set eyes on ; an as fer 
singin , he s dropped the weather, an he s askin folks 
to his house-warmin to-day. He s been there alone 
fer a week, an his singin s been first-class; but to-day 
he s picked up a mate, an he s as tickled as ever I was. 
I am reely consarned fer fear he ll bu st hisself." 

Maria sniffed. 

66 Course, don t come if you re tired, honey," said 
the farmer, "I thought mebby you d enj y it. He s 
a-doin me a power o good. My jints are limbered 
up till I ketch myself purt nigh runnin , on the up 
furry, an then, down towards the fence, I go slow 
so s to stay nigh him as long as I kin." 

Maria stared. " Abram Johnson, hev you gone 
daft?" she demanded. 

Abram chuckled. " Not a mite dafter n you ll be, 
honey, onctyou set eyes on the feller. Better come, if 
you kin. You re invited. He s askin the hull en- 
durin country to come." 



J&ong of ffle Carbtnaf 



Maria said nothing more ; but she mentally decided 
she had no time to fool away over a bird, when there 
was housekeeping and spring sewing to do. As she re 
called Abram s enthusiastic praise of the singer, and 
when she got a whiff of the odor-laden air as she 
passed from the kitchen to the spring-house, she was 
compelled to admit that it was a temptation to go ; but 
she finished her noon work and resolutely sat down 
with her needle. She stitched industriously, her thread 
straightening with a quick, nervous sweep, caught by 
years of experience and, if her eyes wandered river- 
ward, and if she paused frequently with arrested hand 
and listened intently, she did not realize it. By two 
o clock, a spirit of unrest that demanded recognition 
had taken possession of her. Setting her lips firmly, 
a scowl clouding her brow, she fought it down and 
stitched away. By half-past two her hands dropped 
in her lap, Abram s new hickory shirt slid to the 
floor, and she hesitatingly rose and crossed the room to 
the closet, from which she took her overshoes, and set 
them by the kitchen fire, just to have them ready in 
case she wanted them. 

" Pshaw!" she muttered, " I got this shirt to finish 
this afternoon. There s butter an bakin in the morn- 

97 



of ffle 



in , an Mary Jane Simms is comin fer a visit in the 
afternoon." 

She went back to the window and took up the shirt, 
sewing with unusual swiftness for the next half-hour ; 
but by three she dropped it, and, opening the kitchen 
door, gazed riverward. 

Every intoxicating delight of early spring was in the 
air. The breeze that fanned her cheek was laden with 
subtile perfume of pollen and the crisp, fresh odor of 
unfolding leaves. Curling skyward, like a beckoning 
finger, went a spiral of violet and gray smoke from the 
log heap Abram was burning 5 and scattered over 
spaces of a mile were half a dozen others, telling a 
story of the activity of his neighbors. Like the low 
murmur of distant music came the beating wings of 
hundreds of her bees, rimming the water trough, in 
sane with thirst. On the wood-pile the guinea cock 
clattered incessantly, " Phut rack! Phut rack !"; but 
there was not the sound of an answering cheep from 
the little speckled hen brooding on her nineteen dirt- 
colored eggs in a little dip under the orchard fence. 
Across the dooryard came the old turkey gobbler with 
fan tail and a rasping scrape of wing, evincing his de 
light in spring and mating time by a series of explosive 

98 



#e ^ong of fflc Carbinaf 

snorts. On the barnyard gate the old shanghai was 
lustily challenging to mortal combat one of his kind 
three miles across country. Up from the river rose 
the strident scream of her blue gander jealously guard 
ing his harem. In the poultry yard the hens made a 
noisy cackling party, and the stable lot was filled with 
cattle bellowing for the freedom of the meadow pasture, 
as yet scarcely ready for grazing. It seemed to the 
little woman, hesitating in the doorway, as if all nature 
had entered into a conspiracy to lure her from her 
work, and just then, clear and imperious, rose the 
demand of the Cardinal, " Come here ! Come here ! " 

Blank amazement filled her face. "As I m a livin 
woman," she gasped, "he s changed his song! That s 
what Abram meant by me bein invited. He s a-askin 
folks to see his wife. I m a-goin ." 

The dull red of excitement sprang into her cheeks. 
She hurried on her overshoes, and caught an old shawl 
over her head. She crossed the dooryard, cut a corner 
of the orchard, and came out in the lane. A little 
below the barn she turned back and attempted to cross 
the lane. The mud was deep and thick, and she lost 
an overshoe ; but with the help of a stick she pried it 
out, and, balancing on the other foot, replaced it. 

99 



ong of tfle 



"Joke on me if I d a-tumbled over in this mud," 
she muttered. 

She entered the barn, and came out a little later, 
carefully closing and buttoning the door, and, recrossing 
the lane, started down the line fence toward the river. 

Half-way across the field Abram saw her coming. No 
need to recount how often he had looked that way dur 
ing the afternoon. He slapped the lines on the old gray s 
back and came tearing down the slope, his eyes flashing, 
his cheeks red, his hands firmly gripping the plow that 
rolled up a great line of black mold as he passed. 

Maria, staring at his flushed face and shining eyes, 
recognized that his whole being proclaimed an inward 
exultation. 

" Abram Johnson," she solemnly demanded, "hey 
you got the power ? 

"Yes," cried Abram, pulling off his old felt hat, 
and gazing into the crown as if for inspiration; "you ve 
said it, honey ! I got the power ! Got it of a leetle red 
bird! Power o spring! Power o song! Power o love ! 
If that pore leetle red target fer some ornery cuss s bullet 
kin git all he s a-gittin out o life to-clay, hain t no 
cause why a reasonin , thinkin man ortn t realize some 
o his blessin s. You hit it, Marier ; I got the power. 

TOO 



of ffle Catbtndf 



It s the power o God, but I learnt how to lay hold 
on it from that leetle red bird. Come here, Marier ! " 

Abram wrapped the lines around the plow handle, 
and cautiously led his wife to the fence. He found a 
piece of thick bark for her to stand on, and placed her 
where she would be screened by a big oak. Then he 
stood behind her and pointed out the sumac and the 
little bride. 

" Jest you keep still a minute, an you ll feel paid fer 
comin all right, honey," he whispered. 

" I dunno as I ever see a worse lookin specimen o 
female bird an she is," answered Maria. 

" She looks firs -class to him. They s no kick com 
in on his part, I kin tell you," replied Abram. 

The bride hopped shyly about the sumac. She 
pecked at the dried berries, and frequently tried to 
improve her plumage, which certainly had been badly 
draggled; and there was a drop of blood dried at the 
base of her beak. She showed the effects of her rough 
experience plainly, and yet she was a most attractive 
little bird ; for the dimples in her plump body showed 
through the feathers, and, instead of the usual wick 
edly black eyes of the cardinal family, hers were a 
soft, tender brown, lit by a love-light there was no 

101 



^ong of tfle Carbtnaf 



mistaking. She was a beautiful bird, and she was 
doing all in her power to make herself dainty again. 
Her movements plainly showed how nervous she was, 
and yet she stuck to the sumac as if she feared to leave 
it ; and she frequently peered among the tree-tops as if 
she expected some one. 

There was a burst of exultation away down the river. 
The little bride gave her plumage a fluff, and watched 
anxiously. On came the Cardinal like a flaming 
rocket, calling to her on wing. He lit by her, drop 
ped into her beak a juicy worm, gave her a kiss to aid 
digestion, caressingly ran his beak the length of her 
wing quills, and flew to the dogwood. Mrs. Cardinal 
liked that worm. It struck her palate exactly right. 
She liked the kiss and caress, liked, in fact, all that he 
did for her, and with the appreciation of his tenderness 
came repentance for the dreadful chase she had led him 
in her foolish fright, and an impulse to repay. She 
took a dainty little hop toward the dogwood, and the 
invitation she sent him was exquisite. With a shrill 
whistle of exultant triumph the Cardinal came at a 
headlong rush. 

The farmer s grip tightened on his wife s shoulder, 
but Maria turned on him with blazing, tear-filled 

102 



of f0e Cdtbtnctf 



eyes. "An you call yerself a decent man, Abram 
Johnson?" 

66 Decent?" quavered the astonished Abram. " De 
cent? I cackilate I am." 

" I cackilate you ain t," hotly retorted his wife. 
"You dunno what decency is, if you go peekin at 
em. They hain t birds! They re rriore n birds! 
They re folks ! Jest common human folks ! " 

" Marier," pleaded Abram, " Marier, honey." 

"I am plum ashamed o you," broke in Maria. 
" How d you spose she d feel if she knowed they wus 
a man here a-peekin at her? Ain t he got a right to 
be lovin and tender? Ain t she got a right to pay 
him best she knows? They re jest common human 
bein s, an I dunno where you got privilege to spy on 
a female when she s a-doin the best she kin." 

Maria broke from his grasp and started down the 
line fence. 

In a few strides Abram had her in his arms, his 
withered cheek with its spring-time bloom pressed 
against her equally withered tear-stained one. 

" Marier," he whispered, waveringly, " Marier, 
honey, I wasn t a-meanin no disrespect to the sex." 

Maria wiped her eyes on the corner of her shawl. 

105 



of 



" I don t s pose you wus, Abram," she admitted ; 
" but you re jest like all the rest o the men. You 
never think ! Now you go on with yer plowin an 
let that little woman alone." 

She unclasped his arms and turned homeward. 

" Honey," called Abram softly, " sence you brought 
em that pocketful o wheat, you might as well lem- 
me hev it." 

" Landy ! " exclaimed Maria, blushing a little, " I 
plum forgot my wheat ! I thought mebbe, bein so 
early, pickin was skeerce, an if you d put out a leetle 
wheat an a few crumbs, they d stay an nest in the 
sumac, as you re so fond o them." 

" Jest what I m fairly prayin they ll do, an I been 
carryin stuff an pettin him up best I knowed fer a 
week," said Abram, as he knelt, and cupped his 
shrunken hands, while Maria guided the wheat from 
her apron down into them. " I ll scatter it along the 
top rail, an they ll be into it in fifteen minutes. 
Thanky, Marier. Twas good o you to think of it." 

Maria watched him steadily. How dear he was ! 
How dear he always had been ! I low happy they were 
together! "Abram," she questioned, hesitatingly, 
" is there anything else I could do fer fer yer birds? " 

1 06 



of 



They were creatures of habitual repression, and the 
inner glimpses they had had of each other that day 
were surprises they scarcely knew how to meet. 
Abram said nothing, because he could not. He slowly 
shook his head, and turned with misty eyes to the 
plow. Maria started back up the line fence, but she 
paused repeatedly to listen ; and it was no wonder, 
for all the redbirds from miles down the river had 
gathered about the sumac to see if there was a riot 
in birdland ; but it was only the Cardinal, turning 
somersaults in the air, and screaming with bursting 
exuberance, " Come here ! Come here ! " 




"So dear! So dear!" crooned the Cardinal 




She had taken possession of 
the sumac. He let her select 
the crotch and loudly ap 
plauded her choice. She 
placed the first twig, and, 
after examining it carefully, 
he spent the day carrying 
her others just as nearly 
like it as possible. If she 
used a dried grass blade, he 
carried grass blades until 
she began dropping them 
on the ground. If she worked in a bit of wild grape 
vine bark, he peeled grape-vines until she would have 
no more. It never occurred to him that he was the 
largest cardinal in the woods, in those days, and he 
had forgotten that he wore a red coat. She was not 
much of an architect. Her nest certainly was a loose, 
ramshackle affair; but she had built it, and had allowed 

TIT 



0c ^ong of fflc Cdrbtnaf 

him to help her. It was hers ; and he improvised a 
paean in its praise. Every morning he perched on 
the edge of the nest and gazed in songless wonder at 
each beautiful new egg ; and whenever she came to 
brood she sat as if entranced, eying her treasures in an 
abandonment of proud possession. 

Then she nestled them against her warm breast, 
and turned adoring eyes to the Cardinal. If he sang 
from the dogwood, she faced that way. If he rocked on 
the wild grape-vine, she turned in her nest. If he 
went to the cornfield for grubs, she stood astride her 
eggs and peered down, watching his every move with 
unconcealed anxiety. The Cardinal forgot to be vain 
of his beauty; she delighted in it every hour of the day. 
Shy and timid beyond belief she had been during her 
courtship ; but she made up for it by being an incom 
parably generous and devoted mate. 

And the Cardinal ! He was astonished to find him 
self capable of so much and such varied feeling. It 
was not enough that he brooded while she went to 
bathe and exercise. The daintiest of every morsel he 
found was carried to her. When she refused to swal 
low another particle, he perched on a twig near the 
nest many times in a clay; and, with sleek feathers 

112 



of fflc Catbinctf 



and lowered crest, gazed at her in silent, worshipful 
adoration. 

Up and down the river bank he flamed and rioted. 
In the sumac he uttered not the faintest little " Chip ! : 
that might attract attention, and tried so hard to be 
inconspicuous that he appeared only half his real size. 
Always on leaving he gave her a tender little peck and 
ran his beak the length of her wing a characteristic 
caress that he delighted to bestow on her. 

If he felt that he was disturbing her too often, he 
perched on the dogwood and sang for life, and love, 
and happiness. His music was in a minor key now. 
The high, exultant, ringing notes of passion were mel 
lowed and subdued. He was improvising cradle songs 
and lullabies. He was telling her how he loved her, 
how he would fight for her, how he was watching 
over her, how he would signal if any danger were 
coming, how proud he was of her, what a perfect nest 
she had built, how beautiful he thought her eggs, what 
magnificent babies they would bring. Full of tender 
ness, melting with love, liquid with sweetness, the 
Cardinal sang to his patient little brooding mate, " So 
dear! So dear ! " 

The farmer leaned on his corn planter and listened 

* 5 



0e ong of ffle Cdrbindf 

to him intently. "I swanny ! If he ain t changed 
his song again, an this time I m blest if I kin tell what 
he s sayin !" Every time the Cardinal lifted his voice, 
the clip of the corn planter ceased, and Abram hung 
on the notes and studied them over. 

One night he said to his wife: " Marier, hev you 
been noticin the redbird o late? He s changed to a 
new tune, an this time I m completely stalled. I 
can t fer the life o me make out what he s sayin . 
S pose you step down to-morry an see if you kin ketch 
it fer me. I d give a purty to know ! " 

Maria felt flattered. She had always believed that she 
had a musical ear. Here was a good chance to test 
it and please Abram at the same time. She hastened 
her work the next morning, and bright and early 
slipped down along the line fence. Hiding behind the 
oak, with straining ear and throbbing heart, she eagerly 
listened. "Clip, clip," came the sound of the planter, 
as Abram s dear old figure trudged up the hill. "Chip ! 
Chip ! " came the warning of the Cardinal, as he flew 
to his mate. 

He gave her a fine worm, stroked her wing, and, 
flying to the dogwood, he sang of the love that encom 
passed him. And as he trilled forth his tender caress- 

116 



of 



ing strain, the heart of the listening woman translated 
as did that of the brooding bird. 

With shining eyes and flushed cheeks, she sped down 
the fence. She met Abram half-way on his return trip, 
panting and palpitating with excitement. Forgetful of 
her habitual reserve, she threw her arms about his neck, 
and, drawing his face down to hers, she cried : " Oh, 
Abram! I got it ! I got it! I know what he s sayin ! Oh, 
Abram, my love! My own ! To me so dear ! So dear !" 

" So dear ! So dear ! " echoed the Cardinal. 

The bewilderment in Abram s face melted into com 
prehension. He swept Maria off her feet as he lifted 
his head. 

"On my soul! You hev got it, honey! That s 
what he s sayin plain as gospel ! I kin tell it plainer n 
anything he s said yit, now I sense it." 

He gathered Maria in his arms, pressed her head to 
his breast with a trembling old hand, and the face he 
turned to the morning was beautiful. 

" I wish to God," he said quaveringly, " at every 
critter on airth wus as well fixed as me an the redbird!" 
Clasping each other, they listened with rapt faces as, 
mellowing across the cornfield, came the notes of the 
Cardinal, " So dear ! So dear ! : 

117 



of ffle 



After that Abram s devotion to his bird family be 
came a mild mania. He carried food to the top rail 
of the line fence every day, rain or shine, with the same 
regularity that he curried and fed Nancy out in the 
barn. And from caring for and so loving the Cardinal, 
there grew up in his tender old heart a welling flood 
of sympathy for every bird that homed on his farm. 

He drove a stake to mark the spot where the killdeer 
hen brooded in the cornfield, so that he would not drive 
Nancy over it. When he closed the bars at the end of 
the lane, he was always careful to leave the third one 
down, for there was a chippy brooding in the open 
ing where it fitted when closed. Alders and sweet- 
briers grew in his fence corners undisturbed that spring 
if he discovered that they sheltered an anxious-eyed 
little mother. He left a square yard of clover un- 
mowed, because it seemed to him that the lark, singing 
nearer the Throne than any other bird, was picking up 
stray notes dropped by the Invisible Choir, and, with 
unequaled purity and tenderness, sending them ring 
ing down to his tired little brooding mate, whose home 
and happiness would be despoiled by the reaping of 
that little patch of clover. He delayed burning the 
brush-heap from the spring pruning, back of the or- 

nS 



of ffle 



chard, until fall, when he found it housed a pair of fine 
thrushes ; and the song of the thrush delighted him 
almost as much as that of the lark. He left a hollow 
limb on the old red pearmain apple-tree, because 
when he came to cut it there was a pair of bluebirds 
twittering about, frantic with anxiety. 

His pockets were bulgy with wheat and crumbs, and 
his heart was big with happiness. It was the golden 
springtime of his later life. The sky had never seemed 
so blue, nor the earth so beautiful. The Cardinal had 
opened up the fountains of his soul; life took on a new 
color and a new joy and every work of God mani 
fested a fresh and heretofore unappreciated loveli 
ness. His very muscles seemed to relax, and new 
strength arose to meet the demands of his uplifted 
spirit. He had not finished his day s work with such 
ease and pleasure in years ; and he could see the in 
fluence of his rejuvenation in Maria. She was flitting 
about her house with broken snatches of song, even 
sweeter to Abram s ears than the song of the birds ; 
and in these last days he had noticed that she sat down 
to her afternoon s sewing wearing her Sunday lace 
collar and a white apron. He immediately went to town 
and bought her a finer collar than she had ever owned. 

119 



of 



Then he hunted up a sign painter, and came away 
bearing a number of pine boards on which gleamed 
in big, shiny black letters : 



NO HUNTING ALLOWED ON 
THIS FARM 



He seemed slightly embarrassed when he showed 
them to Maria. "I feel a leetle mite onfriendly, put- 
tin up signs like that fore my neighbors," he admitted, 
" but, the fact is, it ain t the neighbors so much as it s 
boys at needs raisin , an them town critters at calls 
theirselves sportsmen, an kills a hummin bird to see if 
they can hit it. Time was when trees an underbresh 
was full o birds an squirrels, any amount o rabbits, 
an the fish fairly crowdin in the river. Ust to kill all 
the quail an wild turkeys about here a-body needed to 
make an appetizin change o vittles. It wus allus my 
plan to take a leetle an leave a leetle. But jest look 
at it now. Surprise o my life if I git a two-pound bass. 
Wild turkey gobblin ud skeer me most outer my 
senses, an , as fer the birds, they s jest about a fourth 
what they ust to be, an the crops et up to pay fer it. 

1 20 



ong of fflc 



I d do all I m try in to do fer any bird, fer its song an 
color, an purty teeterin ways, but I ain t so slow but 
I see I m paid in what they do fer me. Up go these 
here signs, an it won t be a happy day fer anybody I 
ketch trespassin on my birds." 

Maria looked at the signs meditatively. "You 
ortn t be forced to put em up," she said conclusively. 
"If it s bin decided at it s good fer em to be here, an 
laws made to protect ? em, people ort to act with some 
sense, an leave em lone. I never was so int rested in 
the birds in all my life ; an I ll jest do a leetle lookin 
out myself. An if you hear a spang o the dinner bell 
when you re out in the field, you 11 know it means there s 
some one sneakin round with a gun." 

Abram made a dive for Maria and planted a resound 
ing smack on her cheek, where the roses of girlhood 
still bloomed for him. Then he filled his pockets with 
crumbs and grain, and strolled down to set the Car 
dinal s table. He could hear the sharp incisive 
"Chip !" and the tender, mellow love-notes as he left 
the barn and all the way to the sumac they rang in 
his ears. 

The Cardinal met him at the corner of the field, and 
hopped over the bushes and the fence only a few yards 

123 



of f#e Carbindf 



from him. When Abram had scattered his store along 

o 

the rail, he came tipping and tilting, daintily caught up 
a crumb, and carried it to the sumac. His mate was 
pleased to take it ; and he carried her one morsel after 
another until she refused to open her beak for more. 
He made a light supper himself ; and then, swinging 
on the grape-vine, he closed the day with an hour of 
music. He repeatedly turned a bright, questioning eye 
on Abram, but he never for a moment lost sight of the 
nest and the plump little gray figure of his bride. As 
she brooded over her eggs, he brooded over her; and, 
that she might realize the depth and constancy of his 
devotion, he told her repeatedly, with every tender in 
flection he could throw into his tones, that she was 
" So dear! So dear!" 

The Cardinal had not dreamed that the coming of 
the mate he so coveted would fill his life with such 
unceasing gladness, and yet, on the very clay that 
happiness seemed at fullest measure, there was trouble 
in the sumac. The Cardinal had overstayed his time, 
chasing a fat moth he particularly wanted for his mate, 
and she, growing thirsty past bearing, left the nest and 
went down to the river to drink. Seeing her there, 
he made all possible haste to take his turn at brood- 

124 



^ong of fje Carbtndf 



ing, and he arrived just in time to see a pilfering red 
squirrel starting off with an egg. 

With a vicious scream the Cardinal struck him full 
force. His rush of rage cost the squirrel an eye; but 
it lost the father a birdling, for the squirrel dropped the 
egg outside the nest. The Cardinal mournfully carried 
away the tell-tale bits of shell, so that any one seeing 
them would not look up and discover his treasures. 
That left three eggs ; and the brooding bird mourned 
over the lost one so pitifully that the Cardinal perched 
close to the nest all day, and whispered over and over 
for her comfort that she was "So dear! So dear! 




"See here! See here!" shouted the Cardinal 




The mandate repeatedly 
rang from the topmost twig 
of the sumac, and yet the 
Cardinal did not really mean 
what he said. He \vas be 
side himself with a new and 
delightful excitement, and 
he could not possibly refrain 
from giving vent to his feel 
ings, lie was commanding 
the farmer and every furred 
and feathered denizen of the 
river bottom to see ; and then he fought like a wild thing 
if any of them ventured near, for great things were 
happening in the sumac. 

In the past days the Cardinal had brooded an hour 
every morning while his mate went to take her exer 
cise, bathe, and fluff in the sun parlor. He had gone 
to her that morniner as usual, and she looked at 

O / 

129 






#e ^ong of ffle Carbinaf 

him with anxious eyes and refused to budge. He had 
hopped to the very edge of the nest and urged her to 
go repeatedly * and she only ruffled her feathers, and 
moved sidewise to turn the eggs she was nestling, but 
did not offer to leave. The Cardinal reached over and 
gently nudged her with his beak, to remind her 
that it was his time to brood; but she looked at him 
almost savagely, and gave him a little peck ; and then 
he knew that she was not to be bothered. He carried 
her every dainty he could find, and hovered near her, 
tense with anxiety, almost all the day. 

It was late in the afternoon before she went for the 
drink for which she was half famished ; and she had 
barely reached a willow and bent over the water 
before the Cardinal was on the edge of the nest. 
He examined it closely, but he could see no change. 
He leaned to give the eggs careful scrutiny, and from 
somewhere there came to him the faintest little 
" Chip ! " he had ever heard. Up went the Cardinal s 
crest, and he made a dash for the willow. There 
was no danger in sight ; and his mate was greedily 
dipping her rosy beak in the water. He went back 
to the cradle and listened intently, and again that 
feeble little cry came to him. Under the nest, around 

130 



of 



it, and all about the sumac he searched, and, at last, 
completely baffled, he came back to the edge. The 
sound was so much plainer there, that he suddenly 
leaned, caressing the eggs with his beak ; and then the 
Cardinal knew ! He had been hearing the first faint 
chips of his shell-encased babies ! 

With a wild scream he made a flying leap through 
the air. His heart was beating to suffocation. He 
started in a headlong race down the river. If he struck 
a bush he took only one swing, and springing from it 
flamed on in headlong flight. He flashed to the top 
of the tallest tulip tree, and shouted cloudward to the 
lark, " See here ! See here 1 " He dashed down to the 
river bank and told the killdeers, and then visited the 
underbrush and informed the thrushes and wood robins. 
Father-tender, he grew so delirious with joy that he 
iorgot his habitual aloofness, and fraternized with every 
bird along the shining river. He even laid aside his 
customary caution, went shouting into the sumac, and 
caressed his mate so boisterously she had to frown at 
him severely and give him a sharp little peck to 
recall him to his sober senses. 

That night the Cardinal slept in the sumac, very 
close to his mate, and he closed only one eye at a time. 



of f#c Carbinctf 



Early in the morning, when he carried her the first 
grub, he found that she was on the edge of the nest, 
dropping bits of shell outside ; and, creeping up to 
peep, he saw the tiniest coral baby, with closed 
eyes, and little patches of soft, silky down. Its beak 
was wide open, and, though his heart was even fuller 
than on the previous day, the Cardinal knew what that 
meant; and instead of indulging in another celebra 
tion, he assumed the duties of paternity, and went 
searching for food, for now there were two empty crops 
in his family. By the next day there were four. Then 
he really worked. How eagerly he searched, and 
how gladly he flew to the sumac with every rare 
morsel ! The babies were too small for the little 
mother to leave; and for the first few days the Cardi 
nal was constantly on wing. 

If he could not find sufficiently dainty food for them 
in the trees and bushes, or among the offerings of the 
farmer, he got down on the earth and dug like a 
wood robin. He forgot he needed a bath or owned a 
sun parlor; but everywhere he went, from his full heart 
there constantly burst the cry, "See here ! See here!" 

His mate made never a sound. Her eyes were big 
ger and softer than ever, and lit by a love-light there 

132 



ong of fflc 



was no mistaking. She hovered over those three red 
mites of nestlings so tenderly ! She was so absorbed 
in feeding, stroking, and coddling them that she neg 
lected herself until she grew quite thin. When the 
Cardinal came every few minutes with food, she was 
a picture of love and gratitude for his devoted atten 
tion, and once she reached over and softly kissed his 
wing. " See here ! See here ! " shrilled the Cardinal ; 
and in his ecstasy he again forgot himself and shouted 
aloud in the sumac. Then he carried food with greater 
activity than ever to cover his lapse. 

The farmer knew that it lacked an hour of noon, but 
he was so anxious to tell Maria the news that he could 
not bear it another minute. There was a new song 
from the sumac. He had heard it as he turned the 
first corner with the shovel plow. He had eagerly lis 
tened, and had caught the meaning almost at once, 
" See here ! See here ! " He tied the old gray mare 
to the fence to prevent her eating the young corn, and 
went immediately. By leaning a rail against the thorn 
tree he was able to peer into the sumac, and get a good 
look at the nest of handsome birdlings, now well 
screened by the umbrella-like foliage. It seemed to 
Abram that he could never wait until noon. He critically 

33 



of 



examined the harness, in the hope that there was a 
buckle missing, and tried to discover a flaw in the plow 
that would send him to the barn for a file; but he could 
not find the ghost of an excuse for going. So, when 
he had finally hung on until an hour of noon, he could 
bear it no longer. 

" Got news fer you, Marier," he shouted from the 
well, where he was making a pretense of great thirst. 

" Oh, I don t know," answered Maria, with a super 
ior smile. u If it s about the redbirds, he s been up 
to the garden three times this morning yellin , See 
here ! fit to split ; an I jest figgered at they d 
hatched their young-uns. Is that yer news?" 

"Well, I be durned !" gasped the astonished Abram. 

Mid-afternoon Abram turned Nancy and started the 
plow down a row that led straight to the sumac. He 
meant to stop there, tie up to the fence, and go over 
on the river bank, in the shade, for a visit with the 
Cardinal. It was very warm, and he was feeling the heat 
so much, that in his heart he knew he would be glad to 
reach the end of the row and the little rest he had prom 
ised himself. 

The quick, nervous strokes of the dinner bell, 
Clang! Clang! "came cutting the air clearly and 



. . 



of 



sharply. Abram stopped Nancy with a jerk. It was 
the warning Maria had promised to send him if she saw 
prowlers with a gun. He shaded his eyes with his hand 
and scanned the points of the compass through narrowed 
lids with concentrated vision. His eyes first caught 
a gleam of light playing along a gun barrel, and then 
he could discern the figure of a man clad in hunter s 
outfit leisurely making his way down the lane. 

Abram hastily hitched Nancy to the fence. By 
making the best time he could, he reached the oppo 
site corner, and was nibbling the midrib of a young 
corn blade and placidly viewing the landscape when 
the hunter came by. 

" Howdy ! " he said in an even, cordial voice. 

The hunter passed without lifting his eyes or making 
audible reply. To Abram s friendly, old-fashioned 
heart this seemed the rankest discourtesy ; and there 
was a flash in his eye and a certain unnatural quality 
in his voice as he lifted a hand for parley. 

" Hold a minute, my friend," he said. " Sence you 
air on my premises, might I be priviledged to ask if 
you hev seen a few signs at I hev posted pertainin 
to the use of a gun? " 

"I am not blind," replied the hunter* u and my 

35 



of fflc 



education has been looked after to the extent that I can 
make out your notices. From the number and size of 
them, I think I could do it, old man, if I had no eyes." 

The scarcely suppressed sneer, and the "old man" 
grated on Ab ram s nerves amazingly, for a man of 
sixty years of peace. The gleam in his eyes grew 
stronger, and there was a perceptible lift in his shoulders 
as he answered : 

"I meant em to be read, an understood! Frum 
the main road passin that cabin up there on the bank, 
straight down to the river, an frum the furthermost 
line o this field to the same, is my premises, an on 
every foot of em them signs is in full force. They re 
in a leetle fuller force in June, when half the bushes an 
tufts o grass is housin a young bird family, an at any 
other time. They re sort o upholdin the legislater s 
act, perviclin fer the pertection o game an singin 
birds ; an mebby it ud be well fer ye to notice at I m 
not so old but I m able to stand up fer my rights agin 
any livin man." 

There certainly was an added tinge of respect in the 
hunter s tones as he asked: "Would you consider it 
trespass if a man simply crossed your land, following 
the line of the fences to reach the farm of a friend? " 

136 



#c JSong of ffle Carbtnaf 

" Sartainly not ! " cried Abram, cordial in his relief. 
"To be sure, not ! Glad to hev you convenience yer- 
self. I only jest wanted to call to yer notice at the 
birds wus pertected on this farm." 

" I have no intention of interfering with your pre 
cious birds, I assure you," replied the hunter. "And 
if you require an explanation of the gun in June, I con 
fess I did hope to be able to pick off a squirrel for a 
very sick friend. But I suppose for even such cause 
it would not be allowed on your premises." 

"Oh, pshaw, now!" said Abram. "Man alive! 
I m not onreasonable. O course in case o sickness 
I d be glad if you could run acrost a squirrel. All I 
wanted wus jest to hev a clear understandin bout the 
birds. Good luck, an good day to you ! " 

Abram started back across the field to Nancy, but he 
repeatedly turned to follow the gleam of the gun 
barrel, as the hunter rounded the corner of the field 
and started down the river bank. He saw him leave 
the line of the fence and disappear in the thicket. 

" Goin straight fer the sumac," muttered Abram. 
" It s likely I m a fool fer not stayin right by him 
past that p int. An yit I made it fair an plain, an 
he passed his word at he wouldn t tech the birds." 



JSong of fflc 



He untied Nancy, and for the second time started 
down the row to the sumac. He had been plowing care 
fully, his attention divided between the mare and the 
corn ; but he uprooted half that row, for his eyes wan 
dered to the Cardinal s home as if he was fascinated, 
and his hands were shaking with undue excitement as 
he gripped the plow handles. At last he stopped 
Nancy, and stood eagerly gazing toward the river. 

" Must be jest about to the sumac," he whispered. 
"Lord! but I ll be glad to see that ol gun bar l 
gleamin safe t other side o it." 

There was a thin puff of smoke, and a screaming 
echo went rolling and reverberating down the Wabash. 
Abram s eyes widened, and a curious whiteness settled 
about his lips. He stood as if incapable of moving. 
" Clang ! Clang ! " came clashing Maria s second warn 
ing. 

The trembling slid out of him, and his muscles hard 
ened like steel. There was no trace of rheumatic 
stiffness in his movements. With a bound he struck 
the chain-traces from the singletree at Nancy s heels. 
He caught the hames, leaped to her back, and, digging 
his heels into her sides, he stretched along her neck 
like an Indian and raced across the cornfield. Nancy s 

3S 



of ffle &lt;xrbinaf 



twenty years slid from her as her master s sixty had 
from him. Without understanding the emergency, 
she knew that he required all the speed there was 
in her; and, with trace-chains rattling and beating 
about her heels, she stretched out until she fairly 
swept the young corn, as she raced for the sumac. 
Once Abram straightened, and, slipping a hand into 
his pocket, drew out a formidable jack-knife, opening 
it as he rode. When he reached the fence, he almost 
flew over Nancy s head. Like a flash he went into a 
fence corner, and, with a few slashes, severed a stout 
hickory withe, stripping the leaves and topping it as 
he leaped the fence. 

He grasped this ugly weapon, his eyes dark with 
anger, as he burst on the hunter, who supposed him 
at the other side of the field. 

" Did you shoot at that redbird? " he roared. 

As his gun was at the sportsman s shoulder, and he 
was still peering among the bushes, denial seemed 
useless. " Yes, I did," he replied, and made a pre 
tense of turning to the bushes again. 

There was a forward impulse of Abram s body. 
" Hit im?" he demanded with awful calm. 

"Thought I had, but I guess I only winged him." 



of tfle Ccttbinaf 



Abram s fingers closed around his club like steel 
bands. 

At the sound of his friend s voice, the Cardinal came 
darting through the bushes like a tongue of flame, and 
swept so close to him for protection that his wing 
almost brushed his cheek. 

" See here ! See here ! " screamed the bird in deadly 
panic. There was not a cut feather to be seen on him. 

Abram s relief was so great he seemed to shrink an 
inch in height. 

" Young man, you better thank yer God you missed 
that bird," he said solemnly, "fer if you d killed him, 
I d a mauled this stick to ribbons on ye, an I m most 
afeered I wouldn t a-knowed when to quit." 

He advanced a step in his earnestness, and the 
hunter, mistaking his motive, leveled his gun. 

" Drop that !" shouted Abram, as he broke through 
the bushes that clung to him, tore the clothing from his 
shoulders, and held him back. "Drop that! Don t 
you durst p int no weepin at me, an on my own prem 
ises, an after you passed yer word. 

"Yer word! : repeated Abram, with withering 
scorn, his white, quivering old face terrible to see. 

Young man, I got a couple o things to say to you. 

140 



" 



of 



You V shaped like a man, an youV dressed like a man, 
an yit the smartest person livin ud never take you fer 
anything but a egg-suckin dog, this minute. All the 
time God ever spent on you wus wasted, an yer 
mother s had the same luck. I s pose God s used to 
hevin the critters at He s made, go wrong, but I pity 
yer mother. Goodness knows a woman surfers an 
works enough over her children, an then to fetch a boy 
to man s estate an hev him, jest of his own free will 
an accord, be a liar ! Young man, truth is the corner- 
stun o the temple o character. Nobody can t put up 
a good buildin without a solid foundation : an you 
can t do no solid character buildin with a lie at the 
base. Man at s a liar ain t fit fer nothin ! Can t 
trust him in no sphere ner relation o life; ner in any 
way, shape, ner manner. You passed out yer word like 
a man, an like a man I took it an went off trustin 
you, an you failed me. Like as not that squirrel story 
wus a lie, too ! Hev you got ary sick friend at s 
needin squirrel broth ? 

The hunter shook his head. 

u No? That waan t true neither? I ll own you make 
me curious. Ud you mind tellin me what wus your 
idy in cookin up that squirrel story? " 

141 



#e ^ong of tfle Carbinaf 

The hunter spoke with an effort. "I suppose I 
wanted to say something to make you feel small," he 
admitted, in a husky voice. 

" You wanted to make me feel small," repeated 
Abram, wonder ingly. "Lord! Lord! Young man, 
did you ever hear o a boomerang? It s a kind o 
weepin used in Borneo, er Australy, er some o them 
furrin parts, an it s so made at the heathens kin pitch 
it, an it cuts a circle an comes back to the feller at 
throwed. I can t see myself, an I dunno how small 
I m lookin ; but I d ruther lose ten year o my life 
an to hev anybody ketch me a-lookin as little as you 
do right now. I guess we look a good deal the way 
we feel in this world. I m feelin bout the size o 
Goliath jest at present ; but yer size is sech at it hustles 
me to see any man in you at all. An you wanted to 
make me feel small ! My, oh my ! An you so young 
yit, too ! 

" An if it hadn t a-compassed a matter o breakin 
yer word, what ud you wanter kill the redbird fer, 
anyhow? Who give you rights to go round takin 
sech beauty an joy outen the world? Who d ye think 
made this world, an the things at s in it? Mebby it s 
yer idy at somebody about yer size whittled it outen 

142 



of 



a block o wood, scattered a little sand fer airth, stuck 
a few seeds fer trees, an started the oceans with a 
waterin -pot ! I dimno what paved streets an stall 
feedin does fer a man, but any one at s lived sixty year 
on the ground, knows at this hull old airth s jest 
teemin with work at s too big fer anything but a God, 
an a mighty big God at that ! 

" You don t never need bother none bout the diskiv- 
ries o science, fer if science could prove at the airth 
wus a red hot slag busted off frum the sun at balled 
an cooled, flyin through space tel the force o gravity 
ketched an held it, it don t prove what the sun busted 
off from, ner why it balled an didrft cool. Sky over 
yer head, airth under foot, trees round you, an river 
there, all full o life at you hain t no mortal right to 
tech, cos God made it, an it s His! Course, I know 
at He said distinct at man wus to hev dominion over 
the beasts o the field, an the fowls o the air. An 
that means at you re free to smash a copper-head 
ruther n to let it sting you. Means at you better shoot 
a wolf an to let it carry off yer lambs. Means at it s 
right to kill a hawk an save yer chickens; but God 
knows at shootin a redbird jest to see the feathers fly 
ain t hevin dominion over nothin 9 it s jest makin a 

H3 



of f$c &lt;xtbtnaf 



plum beast o yerself. Passes me, how you can face up 
to the Almighty, an draw a bead on a thing like that ! 
Take s more gall n I got ! 

" God never made nothin purtier an that bird, an 
He must a-been mighty proud o the job. Jest cast 
yer eye on it there ! Ever see anything so runnin 
over with dainty, purty, coaxin ways? Leetle red 
critters, full o hist ry too ! Ever think o that? Last 
year s bird, hatched here-about, like as not. Went 
south fer winter, an made friends at s been feedin , 
an teachin it to trust mankind. Back this spring in a 
night, an struck that sumac over a month ago. Broke 
me all up first time I ever set eyes on it. 

" Biggest, reddest redbird I ever see; an jest a 
master hand at king s English ! Talk plain as you kin ! 
Dunno what he said down south, but you can bank on 
it, it wus sumpin purty fine. When he settled here, 
he wus discoursin on the weather, an he talked it out 
about proper. He d say, Wet year! Wet year! jest 
like that ! He got the wet jest as good as I kin, an , 
if he drawed the ye-ar out a leetle, still any blockhead 
could a-tole what he was sayin , an in a voice purty 
an clear as a bell. Then he got love-sick, an begged 
fer comp ny tel he broke me all up. An if I d a-been 

144 



JJong of ffle Carbindf 



a hen redbird I wouldn t a-been so long comin . Hed 
me pulverized in less n no time! Then a little hen 
comes long, an stops with him ; an twus like an 
organ playin prayers to hear im tell her how he loved 
her. Now they ve got a nest full o the cunninest leetle 
top-knot babies, an he s splittin the echoes, yellin fer 
the hull community to come see em, he s so mortal 
proud. 

" Stake my life he s never been fired on afore ! He s 
purty nigh wild with narvousness, but he s got too much 
spunk to leave his fam ly, an go off an hide frum 
critters like you. They s no caution in him. Look at 
him tearin round to give you another chanct ! 

I felt most too rheumaticky to tackle field work 
this spring tel he come long, an the fire o his coat 
an song got me warmed up as I ain t been in years. 
Work s gone like it wus greast, an my soul s been 
singin fer joy o life an happiness ev ry minute o the 
time sence he come. Been carryin him grub to thet 
top rail onct an twict a clay fer the last month, an I 
kin git in three feet o him. My wife comes to see 
him, an brings him stuff an we jest about worship 
him. Who are you, to come long an wipe out his joy 
in life, an our joy in him, fer jest nothin ? You d a 

H5 



^ong of ffle 



left him to rot on the ground, if you d a hit him ; an* 
me an Marier s loved him so ! 

* D vou ever stop to think how full this world is o 
things to love, if yer heart s jest big enough to let em 
in? We love to live fer the beauty o the things sur- 
roundin us, an the joy we take in bein among em. 
An it s my belief at the way to make folks love us, is 
fer us to be able to preciate what they can do. If a 
man s puttin his heart an soul, an blood, an beef 
steak, an bones into paintin picters, you kin talk 
farmin to him all day, an he s dumb ; but jest show 
him at you see what he s a-drivin at in his work, an 
he ll love you like a brother. Whatever anybody suc 
ceeds in, it s success cos they so love it at they put 
the best o theirselves into it; an so, lovin what they 
do, is lovin them. 

" It ud bout kill a painter-man to put the best o 
himself into his picter, an then hev some feller like 
you come long an pour turpentine on it jest to see the 
paint run an I think it must purty well use God up, to 
figger out how to make an color up a thing like that 
bird, an then hev you come long an shoot the leetle 
red heart outen it, jest to prove at you kin ! He s the 
very life o this river bank. Jest as soon see you dig up 

146 



ong of fflc Carbinaf 



theunderbresh, an dry up the river, an spoil the picter 
they make against the sky, es to hev you drap the 
redbird. He s the red life o the whole thing ! God 
must a-made him when his heart wus pulsin hot with 
love an the lust o creatin incom-^r-able things ; an 
He jest saw how purty it ud be to dip his featherin 
into the blood He was puttin in his veins. 

" To my mind, hain t no better way to love an 
worship God, an to pertect an predate these fine 
gifts He s give fer our joy an use. Worshipin that 
bird s a kind o religion with me. Gittin the beauty 
outen the sky, an the trees, an the grass, an the 
water at God made, is nothin but doin Him homage. 
Hull airth s a sanctuary. You kin worship frum sky 
above to grass under foot. 

" Course, each man hes his pertic lar altar. Mine s 
in that cabin up to the bend o the river. Marier lives 
there. God never did cleaner work an when He made 
Marier. Lovin her s sackriment. She s so clean, 
an pure, an honest, an big hearted ! In forty year 
I ve never jest durst brace right up to Marier an try 
to put in words what she means to me. Never saw 
nothin else as beautiful, ner as good. No flower s as 
fragrant an smelly as her hair on her piller. Never 

149 



oncj of fflc 



tapped no bee tree with honey sweet as her lips a- 
twitchin with a love quiver. Hain t a bird long the 
ol Wabash with a voice up to her n. Love o God ain t 
broader n her kindness. When she s been home to 
see her folks, I ve been so hungry fer her at I ve gone 
to her closet an kissed the hem o her skeerts more n 
onct. I ve never yit durst kiss her feet, but I ve allus 
wanted to. I ve laid out at if she dies first, I ll do it 
then. An Marier ud cry her eyes out if you d a-hit 
the redbird. Yer trappin s look like you could shoot. 
I guess twas God made that shot fly the mark. I 
guess " 

"If you can stop, for the love of mercy do it!" 
burst in the hunter. His face was a sickly white, his 
temples wet with sweat, and his body trembling. " I 
can t bear any more. I don t suppose you think I ve 
any human instincts at all ; but I have a few, and I see 
the way to arouse more. You probably won t believe 
me, but I ll never kill another innocent, harmless thing ; 
and I will never lie again as long as I live." 

He leaned his gun against the thorn-tree, and 
dropped the rest of his hunter s outfit beside it on 
the ground. 

" I don t seem a fit subject to have dominion, " he 



of fflc atbtndf 



said. "I ll just leave those things for you ; and thank 
you for what you have done for me." 

There was a crash through the bushes, a leap over 
the fence, and Abram and the Cardinal were alone. 

The old man sat down suddenly on a fallen limb of 
the sycamore. He was almost dazed with astonish 
ment. He held up his shaking hands, and watched 
them wonderingly, and then cupped one over each 
trembling knee to steady himself. He outlined his dry 
lips with the tip of his tongue, and breathed in heavy 
gusts. He glanced toward the thorn-tree. 

" Left his gun," he hoarsely whispered, "an it s 
fine as a riddle. Lock, stock, an bar l jest a-shinin . 
An all that heap o leather fixin s. Must a-cost a 
lot o money. Said he waan t fit to use em ! Lep 
the fence like a panther, an cut dirt acrost the corn 
field. An left me the gun! Well I Well ! Well ! Won 
der what I said? I must a-been almost fierce" 

" See here ! See here ! " shrilled the Cardinal. 

Abram looked him over carefully. He was quiver 
ing with fear, but right as a trivet. 

"My! but that wus a close call, ol feller," said 
Abram. " Minute later, an our fun ud a-been over, 
.an the summer jest spiled. Wonder if you knowed 



Jiong of fflc Carbtnaf 



what it meant, an if you ll be gun-shy after this. 
Land knows, I hope so; fer a few more sech doses ull 
jest lay me up." 

He gathered himself together at last, set the gun 
over the fence, and, climbing after it, caught Nancy, 
who had feasted to plethora on young corn. He 
fastened up the trace-chains, and, climbing to her 
back, laid the gun across his lap and rode to the barn. 
He attended the mare with particular solicitude, and 
bathed his face and hands in the water trough to make 
himself a little more presentable to Maria. He started 
to the house ; but had only gone a little way when he 
stopped, and, after standing in thought a short time, 
turned back to the barn and gave Nancy another ear 
of corn. 

" After all, it wus all you, oP girl," he said, patting 
her shoulder. " I never on airth could a-made it on 
time afoot." 

He was so tired he leaned for support against her, 
for the unusual exertion and intense excitement were 
telling on him sorely, and as he rested he confided to 
her : " I dunno as I wus ever in my life so riled, Nancy. 
Pm a-feered I wus a leetle mite fierce." 

He exhibited the gun, and told the story very soberly 



of 



at supper time ; and Maria was so filled with solicitude 
over him and the bird, and so indignant at the act of 
the hunter, that she never said a word about Abram s 
torn clothing and the hours of patching that would 
ensue. She sat looking at the gun and thinking in 
tently for a long time ; and then she said pityingly : 

" I dunno jest what you could a-said at ud make 
a man go off an leave a gun like that. Poor feller ! 
I do hope, Abram, you didn t come down on him too 
awful strong. Mebby he lost his mother when he wus 
jest a leetle tyke, an ain t had much teachin ." 

Abram was completely worn out, and went early to 
bed. Far in the night Maria felt him fumbling about 
her face in an effort to find if she was covered ; and as 
he drew the sheet over her shoulder he muttered in 
worn and sleepy tones: "I m a-feerd they s no use 
denyin it, Marier, I ivus jest mortal fierce" 

Down in the sumac the frightened little mother car 
dinal was hugging her precious babies tight against her 
breast ; and all through the night she kept calling to 
her mate, " Chook ! Chook ! " and was satisfied only 
when an answering " Chip ! " came. As for the Car 
dinal, he had learned a new lesson. He had never 
been under fire before. Never again would he trust 

*53 



JSong of ffle Carbtnaf 



any one that carried a shining thing that belched fire 
and smoke. He had seen the hunter coming, and 
had raced home to defend his mate and babies, thus 
making a brilliant mark of himself ; and, as he would 
not have deserted them, only the arrival of the farmer 
had averted a tragedy in the sumac. He did not learn 
to use caution for himself; but, after that, if a gun came 
down the shining river, he sent a warning " Chip ! " to 
his mate, telling her to crouch low in her nest and keep 
very quiet, and then, in broken waves of flight, and 
with chirp and flutter, he exposed himself until he had 
lured danger from his loved ones. 

When the babies grew large enough for their mother 
to leave them for a short time, she assisted in food 
hunting, and the Cardinal was not so busy. He then 
could find time to mount frequently to the top of the 
dogwood, and cry to the world, " See here! See 
here!" for the cardinal babies were splendid. But 
his music was broken, intermittent vocalizing now, 
often uttered past a beakful of worms, and interspersed 
with spasmodic "chips" if danger threatened his mate 
and nestlings. 

Despite all their care, it was not so very long until 
trouble came to the sumac ; and it was all because the 

J 54 



of f0e Carbinaf 



first-born was plainly greedy; much more so than 
either his little brother or his sister, and was one 
day ahead of them in strength. He always pushed him 
self forward, cried the loudest and longest, and so took 
the greater part of the food carried to the nest; and 
one day, while he was still quite awkward and wobbly, 
he climbed to the edge and reached so far that he fell. 
He rolled down the river bank, splash ! into the water ; 
and a hungry old pickerel, sunning himself in the weeds, 
snapped him up. He made a morsel so fat, sweet, and 
juicy that the pickerel hung around for a week, waiting 
to see if there would be any more accidents. 

The Cardinal, hunting grubs in the cornfield, heard 
the frightened cries of his mate, and dashed to the 
sumac in time to see the poor little ball of brightly 
tinted feathers go under the water and hear the splash 
of the fish. He screamed in helpless panic and flut 
tered over the spot. He watched and waited until he 
knew there was no hope of the baby s coming up, and 
then he went to the sumac to try to comfort his mate. 
She could not be convinced that her baby was gone, 
and for the rest of the day filled the air with alarm 
cries and notes of wailing. 

The two that remained were surely the envy of Bird- 

57 



of 



land. The male baby was a perfect copy of his big 
crimson father, only his little coat was gray; but it was 
so highly tinged with red that it was brilliant, and 
his beak and feet were really red; and how his crest 
did flare, and how proud and important he felt, when 
he found he could raise and lower it at will. His little 
sister was not nearly so bright as he, and she was almost 
as greedy as the lost brother. With his father s chivalry 
he let her crowd in and take the most of the worms and 
berries, so that she continually looked too full for utter 
ance, yet she was constantly calling for more. 

She took the first flight, because she was so greedy 
she forgot to be afraid, and actually flew to a near-by 
thorn-tree to meet the Cardinal, coming with a big 
worm, before she realized what she was doing. For 
once gluttony had its proper reward. She not only 
missed the worm, but she got her little self mightily 
well scared. She clung to the thorn limb, shivering over 
the depths below, with popping eyes and fear-flattened 
crest; and it was the greatest comfort when her little 
brother plucked up courage and came sailing over to 
her. But, of course, she could not be expected to 
admit that. When she saw how easily he did it, she 
flared her crest, turned her head indifferently, and 

58 







% 





of f$e Carbinctf 



asked him if he did not find flying a very easy matter, 
once he mustered pluck to try it; and she made the 
poor little soul very much ashamed indeed that he had 
allowed her to be the first to leave the nest. From the 
thorn-tree they worked their way to the dead sycamore; 
but there the lack of foliage made them so conspicuous 
that their mother almost went into spasms from fright, 
and she literally drove them back to the sumac. 

The Cardinal was so inordinately proud, and made 
such a brave showing of teaching them to fly, bathe, 
and all the other lessons of bird babyhood, that it was a 
great mercy they escaped with their lives ; for with all his 
ability, and the many lessons he had mastered, the one 
thing the Cardinal never could be taught was, how to be 
quiet and conceal himself. With explosive " chips" 
flaming and flashing, he met dangers that sent all the 
other birds along the shining river racing for cover. 
Concealment he scorned ; and repose he never knew. 

It was a summer full of rich experience for the 
Cardinal. After these first babies were reared and had 
flown, two more nests were built, and two more broods 
of babies romped about the sumac. By fall the Cardinal 
was the father of a small flock, and they were, every 
one, neat, trim, beautiful river birds. 

161 



oncj of fflc 



He had lived through spring with its perfumed air, 
bright flowers, and burning heart hunger. He had 
known summer in its golden mood, with forests pun 
gent with spicebush and sassafras ; festooned with 
wild grape, woodbine, and bittersweet; carpeted with 
velvet moss and starry mandrake peeping from under 
green shades; the never-ending murmur of the shining 
river; and the rich fulfilment of love s fruition. 

Now it was fall, and the promises of spring were all 
accomplished. The woods were glorious in autumnal 
tints. There were ripened red haws, and black haws, 
and wild grapes, only waiting for a little more severe 
frost, nuts rattling down, scurrying squirrels, and 
bunnies flash of gray and brown. The waysides were 
bright with the glory of goldenrod, and royal with the 
purple of asters and iron wort. There was the rustle 
of falling leaves, the flutter of velvety butterflies, the 
whir of wings trained southward, and the call of the 
king crow gathering his followers. 

Then to the Cardinal came the intuition that it was 
time to lead his family to the orange orchard. One 
day they flamed and rioted up and down the shining 
river, raced over the cornfield, and tilted about the 
sumac. The next, a black frost had stripped its ant- 

162 



|Jong of 



Catbtndf 



lered limbs. Stark and deserted it stood, a picture of 
loneliness. 

O, bird of wonderful plumage and human-like song! 
What a precious thought of Divinity to create such 
beauty and music for our pleasure ! Brave songster 
of the flaming coat, too proud to hide your flashing 
beauty, too fearless to be cautious of the many dangers 
that bes?t you, from the top of the morning we greet 
you, a^d hail you King of Birdland, at your imperious 
command, " See here ! See here ! 



" 




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